THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

LIBRARY 


THE  WILMER  COLLECTION 

OF  CIVIL  WAR  NOVELS 

PRESENTED  BY 

RICHARD  H.  WILMER,  JR. 


{^f.  lo,   /T/ 


^ 


C  H  I C  K  A  M  A  U  G  A 


A   ROMANCE 


AMERICAN  CIVIL  WAR 


BY 

F.  A.  MITCHEL 

LATE    U.    S.    A. 

Author  of  "Chattanooga 


NEW  YORK 

THE    STAR   BOOK  COMPANY 
20?    Broadway 


Copyrighted,  iE 


F.  A.  MITCHEL. 


All  rights  rescrvctl. 


THE   MERSHON   COMPANY   PREbS, 
RAHWAY,    N.  J. 


N.  B. — As  in  "  Chattanooga,"  while  the  present 
story  is  purely  one  of  love  and  adventure,  the 
dates,  topography,  location  and  movements  of 
troops  referred  to  are  given  correctly.  The 
events  pertaining  to  the  battle  of  Chickamauga 
are  as  nearly  correct  as  a  careful  study  of  dif- 
ferent   records    has    enabled    me    to    judge    of 

them. 

F.  A.  M. 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2010  with  funding  from 

University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hill 


http://www.archive.org/details/chickamaugaromanOOmitc 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER 


PAGE 


I.  Opening  of  the  Campaign,    .         .        .        .  i 

II.  A  War  of  Wits I3 

III.  A  Devoted  Confederate 23 

IV.  A  Guerrilla's  Home,           ....  38 
V.  Carrying  the  News, 5i 

VI.    TULLAHOMA 60 

VII.  Old  Friends  Meet 69 

VIII.  Jakey  Enters  the  Army,           ...  81 

IX.  Cipher  Dispatches 91 

X.  A  Promise  Soon  Broken,           ...  103 

XI.  A   Race  for  Life, no 

XII.  A  Changed    Enemy,            ....  124 

XIII.  "  Turned  Over."             i33 

XIV.  An  Unwelcome  Prisoner,          ...  142 

XV.  Tried, 151 

XVI.  You   Shall  Not   Die 162 

XVII.  Ratigan's  Mission, 170 

XVIII.  A  Strange   Meeting 180 

V 

527098 


vi  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XIX.  In   the  Shadow  of  Death,         ,         .         .  187 

XX.  The  Darkest   Hour,           ....  196 

XXI.  A  Military  Problem,            ....  204 

XXII.  Jakey's  Announcement 213 

XXIII.  The  First  Gun  at  Chickamauga,          .         .  220 

XXIV.  The  Nineteenth  of  Septemrf.r,       .         .  229 
XXV.  The  Coming   of  the  Reserve,     .        ,        .  238 

XXVI.  Storming  the  Ridge,         ....  250 

XXVII.  An  Important  I,etter,          ....  259 

XXVIII.  The  Choice  of  a  Post,     ....  269 

XXI.X.  Punishment  and  Reward 273 

XXX.  A  Singular  Ceremony,        ....  281 


CHICKAMAUGA. 


OPENING    OF    A    CAMPAIGN. 

THE  Army  of  the  Cumberland  is  awakening.  For 
months  its  thirty  miles  of  torpid  length  have  been 
marked  by  clusters  of  white  tents  like  the  rings  of 
a  gigantic  anaconda.  But  now  there  is  an  arousing 
from  its  long  period  of  lethargy.  The  tents  are  being 
struck,  the  men  are  stuffing  knapsacks,  rolling 
blankets,  or  swallowing  from  tin  cups  a  last  draught 
of  invigorating  coffee.  Wagons  are  being  loaded  with 
all  kinds  of  camp  equipage — tents,  camp  cots,  cooking 
utensils,  the  pine  tables  and  army  desks  of  the  staff 
departments.  Here  orderlies  are  holding  horses, 
waiting  their  riders,  and  there  men  are  strapping 
blankets  or  ponchos  behind  saddles,  or  cramming 
bacon  and  "hard  tack"  into  haversacks,  while  strik- 
ers empty  the  contents  of  the  demijohn  into  canteens. 
Each  regiment,  as  soon  as  formed,  moves  out  into  the 
road,  the  whole  taking  up  the  line  of  march  by 
brigades  and  divisions. 

It  is  the  right,  or  head  of  the  monster,  that  awakens 


2  •  CHICKAMAUGA. 

first.  The  main  body  of  this  wing  moves  diagonally 
toward  the  front  and  left,  while  cavalry  pushes 
directly  south  to  conceal  the  movement  and  produce 
a  false  impression  on  the  enemy.  All  day  the  infan- 
try and  artillery  work  their  way  over  dirt  roads,  the  men 
marching  at  will,  smoking,  chatting,  laughing;  the 
Irish  regiments  cracking  jokes,  the  Germans  singing; 
all  with  that  esprit  which  pervades  an  army  just  start- 
ing, after  a  long  period  of  idleness,  on  a  new  cam- 
paign. A  lasliing  of  artillery  horses,  a  cursing  of 
mules,  words  of  command,  bugle  calls,  picket  firing, 
the  occasional  boom  of  a  gun,  mingle  confusedly,  and 
in  a  country  used  only  to  the  peaceful  lowing  of  cat- 
tle or  the  songs  of  birds. 

So  stream  those  men  of  the  right,  guns,  caissons, 
horses,  mules,  wagons,  all  day  long  till  the  sun  goes 
down.  Then  a  halt  is  called,  followed  by  the  smell  of 
burning  wood  from  myriads  of  camp  fires,  the  odor  of 
coffee,  the  sizzle  of  bacon;  while  along  the  front  is 
heard  the  cracking  of  rifles  on  the  picket  line. 

At  midnight  the  right  is  in  bivouac;  the  center  and 
left  still  slumber  in  long  rows  of  tents  on  avenues 
bordered  with  evergreens,  the  accumulation  of  a  long 
continued  rest  in  one  place.  But  this  is  not  the  mid- 
night of  headquarters.  There,  all  is  in  motion.  Be- 
fore the  house  of  the  commanding  general  at  Mur- 
freesboro  leaders  of  corps  and  divisions  are  mounting 
or  dismounting,  either  having  received  or  about  to 
receive  their  dispositions.  Staff  officers  are  coming 
and  going  with  verbal  messages,  while  couriers  are 
flying  hither  and  thither  with   dispatches.     Through 


CHICKAMAUGA.  3 

a  murky  night  the  stream  of  comers  and  goers  flows 
on  incessantly.  During  the  small  hours  a  group  of 
staff  officers  on  duty,  yet  for  the  time  being  unem- 
ployed, gather  about  a  piano  while  one  of  their  num- 
ber sings  inspiriting  songs. 

At  break  of  day  many  a  soldier  is  still  slumbering 
peacefully  whose  fitful  sleep,  for  months  to  come,  will 
be  haunted  by  dreams  of  toilsome  marches  through 
mud  and  rain,  of  shrieking  shells  and  pinging  bullets, 
of  Union  cheers  and  "rebel  yells";  all  tinged  with 
contrasting  visions  of  home.  At  six  o'clock  on  the 
center  and  left  are  heard  the  clear,  sharp  tones  of  a 
bugle.  There  is  a  movement  in  the  army  of  sleepers. 
Masses  of  men  pour  from  the  tents,  and  swarm  in  the 
avenues.  Successive  bursts  of  cheering,  like  billows 
beating  on  an  ocean  coast,  sweep  the  line  of  camps. 
The  mist  of  canvas  rocks  unsteadily  in  the  early 
shadows,  then  melts  before  the  day.  Throughout  its 
whole  length  the  Army  of  the  Cumberland  is  in 
motion,  advancing  on  that  campaign  which  is  to 
maneuver  the  Confederates  out  of  Tennessee  and 
lead  up  to  the  battle  of  Chickamauga. 

On  a  road  running  parallel  with  the  Cumberland 
Mountains,  which  flank  the  Union  army  on  its  left,  a 
strange-looking  vehicle  is  going  at  a  breakneck  pace 
toward  the  south.  The  horse  is  a  rawboned  animal 
with  long  legs  and  neck,  while  the  vehicle — a  buggy — 
is  so  bespattered  with  mud  that  what  paint  remains  on 
it  is  invisible.  The  bottom  is  partly  gone;  the  dash- 
board would  let  through  a  cannon  ball  without  being 
injured;   the  springs  are  badly  bent;  the  top,  which 


4  CHICKAMAUGA. 

is  let  down, — there  are  no  props  to  hold  it  up, — is 
shriveled  and  torn,  its  tatters  flying  behind  in  the 
wind.  A  woman  in  a  striped  calico  dress,  a  sunbon- 
net  of  the  same  material,  a  pair  of  colored  spectacles 
on  her  nose,  holds  the  reins  and  urges  forward  the 
horse.  Yet  strange  looking  as  is  the  conveyance  and 
its  occupant,  for  that  time  and  region  there  is  nothing 
unusual  in  the  appearance  of  either.  The  country 
people  inhabiting  that  portion  of  Tennessee  are  not 
cultured,  and  uncouthness  is  rather  the  rule  than  the 
exception. 

Coming  to  a  place  where  she  can  get  a  full  view  for 
some  distance  ahead,  the  woman  glances  over  the  in- 
tervening space  between  her  and  the  next  rise  in  the 
undulating  ground.  Seeing  nothing  to  deter,  she 
drives  her  horse  on  as  rapidly  as  she  can  force  him  to 
go.  Her  buggy  careens  till  it  is  in  danger  of  going 
over;  she  is  bounced  from  her  seat  with  a  prospect  of 
being  sent  over  the  dashboard ;  the  mud  flies,  the 
horse  wheezes,  the  buggy  groans,  but  there  is  no 
slackening  of  pace. 

"Go  on,  Bobby,  go  on!" 

Turning  a  curve  in  the  road  partly  hidden  by  trees, 
she  sees  a  cavalry  camp  ahead.  In  the  road  an  officer 
stands  talking  to  a  man  in  a  farm  wagon,  beside  whom 
on  a  board  seat,  its  two  ends  resting  on  the  wagon's 
sides,  sits  a  boy  of  fourteen;  while  on  a  back  seat,  evi- 
dently borrowed  from  a  more  pretentious  vehicle,  is  a 
young  girl,  perhaps  three  or  four  years  the  boy's 
senior. 

The  woman   of  the  striped  dress  drove  up  to  the 


CHICK  AM  A  UGA.  5 

group  and,  drawing  rein,  listened  to  what  they  were 
saying. 

"Cap,"  said  the  farmer — all  officers  in  the  Union 
army  were  called  by  the  people  of  the  country  either 
Cap  or  Gineral  or  mister — "Cap,  I  want  ter  go 
through  the  lines  powerful  bad." 

"Well,  I'm  thinkin',  me  good  man,"  replied  the 
ofificer  with  the  brogue  of  an  Irishman,  "that's  exactly 
what  old  Rosey  wants  to  do;  unless  he  prefers  to  get 
behind  'em  and  bag  'em  from  th'  rear." 

"Oh,  I  don't  mean  fightin'.  I  wants  ter  go  hum 
peaceful." 

"Can't  pass  ye,  me  good  man.  Oi've  orders  not  to 
pass  anyone  south  while  the  army  is  mooven.  There's 
no  need  to  be  tellin'  ye  that  all  day.  Once  ought  to 
he  sufficient." 

"What's  thet?"  cried  a  shrill  voice  from  the  buggy. 
"V  don't  mean  fo'  ter  tell  me  I  can't  go  hum?" 

"I  fear,  me  dear  leddy,  that  ye  can't,  if  ye  live  be- 
yond our  lines." 

"H'm.  And  so  you'uns  hev  kem  down  hyar  ter 
make  war  on  women." 

"Well  now,  that  depends  on  the  kind  of  war. 
We've  come  down  vi  et  arviis  as  me  old  preceptor  at 
the  university  used  to  say — God  bless  'im.  Like 
enough  the  zn  is  for  the  men  and  the  annis  for  the 
women." 

"I  don't  keer,"  replied  the  woman.  "You'uns 
hain't  got  no  business  fo'  ter  come  down  hyar  nohow. 
You're  a  mis'able  set  o'  black  abolishioners.  I'm  a 
gal  'thout  nothin'  ter  fight  with  and  you'uns " 


6  CHICKAMAUGA. 

"Beauty  and  the  beast,"  interrupted  the  officer, 
bowing. 

"Now  see  hyar,  Mr.  Yank,  I  got  ter  go  hum.     Pop 
he's  away,  and  mother  she's  sick  in  bed." 
The  officer  scratched  his  head  and  thought.    , 

"Well,  me  friends,"  he  said  presently,  "Oi'm 
thinkin'  O'll  refer  the  case  of  all  of  yez  to  brigade 
headquarters.  Would  ye  moind  sittin'  where  ye  are 
till  I  get  an  answer?" 

"Reckon  not,"  from  the  farmer. 

"Hurry  up,"  said  the  woman  iii  the  buggy. 
"Mother's  waitin'  fo'  me." 

The  officer  stepped  into  his  tent  near  by  and  came 
out  with  a  pencil  and  the  back  of  an  old  letter.  With 
these  he  proceeded  to  take  down  the  information 
required.     Approaching  the  buggy  he  said: 

"Will  ye  plaze  favor  me  with  your  patronymic" — 
he  paused  while  he  looked  to  see  if  she  were  young 
or  old — "miss?" 

"My  what?" 

"Your  patronymic." 

"Oh,  talk  Tennessee." 

"Well,  then,  your  cognomen." 

"See  hyar,  Mr.  Officer,  ef  y'  want  ter  git  anything 
outen  me,  y'  want  to  talk  squar. " 

"Please  tell  me  your  name." 

"Betsy  Baggs.      'N  yours?" 

"Major  Burke,  at  your  service.  Are  ye  Union 
or " 

'' Rebel  r' 

"Where  do  ye  want  to  go?" 


CHICK  AM  A  VGA.  j 

"Hum." 

"And  that  is  at ?*' 

"Dunlap." 

"Why  are  ye  here?" 

"I  been  ter  MacMinnville  ter  see  mother's  old 
doctor." 

"There's  a  shorter  road  from  MacMinnville  than 
this;  why  didn't  ye  take  it?" 

The  girl  showed  a  slight  confusion. 

"Oh,  I  got  a  friend  at  Franklin  College.  She'uns 
'n  I'uns  alius  ben  powerful  thick." 

After  getting  the  data  as  to  all  the  party  the  major 
called  a  mounted  man  and  directed  him  to  take  it  to 
headquarters  and  ask  for  instructions. 

"Do  ye  know  who  to  take  it  to?"  he  asked  of  the 
man  as  he  was  about  to  ride  away. 

"It's  to  the  gineral  I'm  takin'  it." 

"The  gineral?  Man,  would  you  get  me  court  mar- 
tialed  for  disregard  of  the  regulations?  Take  it  to  the 
chafe  o'  staff,  ye  lunkhead,  and  from  him  ye'll  get  the 
answer.  It's  not  the  loikes  o'  you  can  approach  the 
gineral.  Moind  now,  and  don't  spind  the  time  talk- 
in'  with  the  guard." 

While  the  messenger  was  away  the  party  listened  to 
the  voluble  tongue  of  the  young  Confederate  symi)a- 
thizer  in  the  buggy.  She  entered  into  the  causes  of 
the  war,  depicted  the  benefits  of  negro  slavery,  espe- 
cially on  the  slave,  spoke  admiringly  of  all  Confeder- 
ate soldiers,  and  ransacked  the  dictionary  to  find  words 
to  express  her  loathing  of  Yankees. 

"Come  now.  Miss   Baggs, "   said  the  major  good- 


S  CHICKAMAUGA. 

naluredly.  "There's  a  young  fellow  in  me  regiment 
who'll  suit  ye  exactly.  He  is  an  Oirishman  from  the 
crown  of  his  head  to  the  sole  of  his  fut.  He  only 
came  over  a  few  years  ago.  He  is  as  smart  as  a  whip. 
There  was  but  one  gurrel  in  County  Cavan  who  could 
outtalk  'im.     That's  the  reason  he  left  Oirland." 

"When  I  want  a  man  I  reckon  I  can  find  one  right 
hyar  outen  the  yarth  o'  Tennessee,  'thout  goin'  to 
Oirland  \.tx  find  one.     Is  he  red-headed?" 

"Red  as  the  linin'  of  an  artillery  officer's  cape." 

"What  kind  o'  eyes?" 

"Blue  as  a  robin's  egg." 

"Wal,  trot  him  out;   I'll  take  a  look  at  him." 

"Oi'll  call  him  meself,"  and  the  major  went  into 
one  of  the  tents.  There  he  found  Corporal  Ratigan, 
the  man  he  sought. 

"Corporal  Rats,"  he  said — everyone  called  the  cor- 
poral "Rats" — "there's  a  gurrel  out  there  that  wants 
to  go  through  the  lines.  Oi've  sent  to  brigade  head- 
quarters to  find  out  if  they'll  give  her  a  pass.  I  want 
you  to  make  her  acquaintance." 

"At  your  service,  major,"  said  the  corporal,  salut- 
ing. And  the  two  walked  out  to  where  the  travelers 
were  waiting. 

"Miss  Baggs,"  said  the  major,  "allow  me  to  pre- 
sint  Corporal  Ratigan,  commonly  called  'Rats'  by  his 
comrades,  one  of  the  most  gallant  men  in  the  regi- 
ment." 

Corporal  Ratigan  bowed  and  uncovered  a  head  of 
hair  fully  up  to  the  major's  description  of  it.  It  sur- 
mounted one  of  the  most  honest  of   countenances. 


CHICK  AM  A  VGA.  9 

There  was  an  air  of  gentility  about  the  man  despite 
his  private's  uniform,  and  the  smile  with  which  he 
greeted  the  young  woman  could  not  have  been  more 
bewitching  had  he  saluted  a  marchioness.  Admira- 
tion for  the  strapping  Irish- Yankee  soldier  stood  big 
in  Miss  Bagg's  eyes. 

"How'de,"  she  said,  with  something  that  was  in- 
tended for  a  bow.  "Yer  a  purty  likely  lookin'  feller 
ef  y'  air  playin'  Yank.  Y'd  better  a  stayed  in  Oir- 
/and  than  come  down  hyar  to  make  war  on  women." 

"And  have  I  overpainted  the  beautiful  tint  of  his 
hair?"  asked  the  major,  laughing. 

"It'd  make  good  winter  har;  needn't  hev  no  fire  in 
th'  house." 

Horses'  hoofs  were  heard  down  the  road,  and  in  a 
few  minutes  the  messenger  who  had  been  sent  to  head- 
quarters rode  up. 

"Where's  the  answer?"  asked  the  major. 

"Divil  an  answer  did  I  get,  major,"  said  the  man, 
saluting  awkwardly. 

"And  what  d'ye  mean  by  that?" 

"Well,  I  kem  up  to  headquarthers  and  the  gineral 
was  gettin'  off  of  his  harse  to  go  in  his  tint.  'Have 
ye  anythin'  for  me,  me  man?'  he  asked.  'Niver  a 
worrud,  gineral,'  I  answered,  salutin'  respectful. 
'What's  the  paper  ye  have  in  your  belt?'  'It's  for  the 
chafe  o'  staff.'  'Well,  give  it  to  me.'  'Divil  a  bit, 
gineral;  it's  not  for  the  loikes  o'  me  to  be  givin'  yez 
a  paper.  Oi'm  instructed  to  give  it  to  the  chafe  o' 
staff.'  'Give  me  the  paper,  you  cussed  ©irishman,'  he 
said,  'or  Oi'U  sind  ye  to  the  guard  tint.'      'Niver  will 


10  CHICK  A  MA  UGA . 

I  be  guilty  of  breakin'  the  Regulations  or  the  Articles 
of  War,  gineral.'  'Corporal  o'  the  guard!'  yelled  the 
gineral. 

"The  corporal  kem  and  saluted  the  gineral,  him 
red  as  Corporal  Ratigan's  head.  'Take  that  paper 
from  that  man,'  he  roared.  Well,  bein'  surrounded 
by  the  guard  who  were  at  the  corporal's  call  I  sur- 
rendered." 

"And  thin?"  gasped  the  major,  glaring  at  the  stupid 
messenger. 

"And  thin  the  gineral  said,  'Go  to  your  camp  and 
tell  Major  Burke  to  put  y'  in  the  guard  tint  for  twenty- 
four  hours.  And  whin  he  sinds  another  orderly  to  me 
not  to  sind  a  recruit,  or  I'll  put  him  in  arrest.'  " 

"BytheHowly Ye  infernal,  raw Did  ye 

get  no  answer?" 

"  'Oi'll  sind  an  answer  by  a  soldier  who  has  been 
properly  trained,'  said  the  gineral.  Didn't  ye  tell  me 
right,  major?" 

"Corporal  o'  the  guard!"  cried  the  major,  by  way 
of  reply. 

"Take  that  man,"  he  said,  when  the  corporal  came, 
"to  the  guard  tent." 

As  the  messenger  was  marched  away,  protesting 
against  the  injustice  of  his  treatment  for  obeying 
orders,  a  staff  officer  rode  up.  Taking  the  major  apart, 
he  instructed  him  to  let  the  applicants  go  through, 
provided  they  would  take  an  oath  not  to  give  any  in- 
formation concerning  the  Union  troops  to  the  enemy. 
With  the  passes  he  brought  a  suggestion  from  the  gen- 
eral to  send  some  person  with  one  or  the  other  of  the 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  1 1 

two  parties  under  pretense  of  an  escort,  but  really 
with  a  view  to  discovering  the  proximity  of  the  enemy. 
Now  that  the  main  army  was  moving  it  might  be  well 
to  discover  if  the  cavalry  on  its  flank  had  fallen  back. 
The  ground  was  unfavorable  for  a  reconnoissance, 
hence  the  suggestion  to  get  tl'^f  information  by  strate- 
gem. 

The  major  hunted  the  camp  for  a  Bible  on  which 
to  administer  the  oath,  and  called  on  Corporal  Ratigan 
to  help  him.  He  explained  the  general's  request  and 
told  Ratigan  that  he  wanted  him  to  go  with  Miss  Baggs. 
Having  given  the  corporal  a  full  understanding  of 
what  was  required  of  him  he  went  back  to  the  party 
with  a  Bible,  followed  by  Ratigan. 

The  farmer  and  his  family  were  first  sworn,  and 
then  the  major  offered  to  swear  Miss  Baggs. 

"I  hain't  goin'  t'  do  no  swearin',"  she  said  defi- 
antly. 

"Oi'm  glad  to  hear  that,"  remarked  Corporal  Rati- 
gan. 

"What  fo',  fire  top?"   she  asked,  surprised. 

"I'd  be  breakin'  me  heart  at  partin'  with  ye." 

"Y'  hain't  got  no  heart  nohow,  or  y'  wouldn't  be  in 
th'  Yankee  army." 

"Don't  ye  believe  it."  exclaimed  the  major,  "his 
heart's  as  warrum  as  the  color  of  his  hair.  Come, 
young  leddy,  take  the  oath.  I'd  be  sorry  to  be  part- 
in'  ye  from  your  mother,  and  she  sufferin'." 

"I  won't." 

"Won't  ye  take  it  for  inoi  sake  ?  "  queried  Ratigan 
with  a  mock  appeal. 


12  CHICK  AM  A  VGA. 

"Y'll  hev  ter  git  some  'un  uglier'n  you'uns  ter  move 
me.  I  hanker  after  ugly  men,  but  you'uns  ain't  quite 
ugly  enough  fo'  me." 

"Nowye're  talkin'  with  a  seductive  tongue,"  quoth 
Ratigan.  "If  the  major  will  permit  Oi've  a  mind  to 
see  ye  through  the  line*  meself  without  the  oath." 

The  corporal  looked  slyly  at  the  major  and  the 
major  returned  the  corporal's  sly  glance. 

*'Very  well,"  said  Burke.  "You  go  with  her,  and 
moind  that  she  isn't  keepin'  her  ois  open  to  see  things 
for  Gineral  Bragg's  benefit.  Miss  Baggs,  if  ye'll  just 
keep  lookin'  roit  into  the  corporal's  blue  arbs  ye'll  get 
through  all  right,  and  if  ye're  tempted  to  look  aside 
just  fix  'em  on  his  head  and  ye'll  be  blinded." 

The  corporal  went  for  his  horse,  buckled  on  his 
revolver,  and  coming  back  started  out  to  play  diplo- 
mat; in  other  words  to  acquire  knowledge  by  strategy. 


II. 

A    WAR    OF    WITS. 

pORPORAL  RATIGAN  rode  gallantly  beside  Miss 
\y  Baggs,  the  t'.vo  keeping  up  a  constant  picket  firing 
which  occasionally  warmed  to  the  dignity  of  a  skir- 
mish. Miss  Baggs  was  in  an  excellent  humor,  and  the 
corporal  quite  delighted  at  the  role  he  was  playing. 
He  pretended  to  watch  her  carefully  whenever  any- 
thing belonging  to  the  army  was  passed  on  the  road, 
while  he  was  secretly  forming  his  plans  for  getting  far 
enough  on  the  way  to  determine  the  proximity  of  the 
enemy.  He  felt  no  suspicion  as  to  Miss  Baggs  carry- 
ing information.  Being  on  the  flank  of  the  army  she 
would  not  be  likely  to  have  much  information  to  carry. 
The  country  people  were  constantly  passing  between 
the  lines,  and  considering  their  harrowiii'T  excuses  no 
one  except  with  a  heart  of  stone  could  well  prevent 
them. 

"What's  in  the  box  ye  have  with  ye?''  asked  R::ti- 
gan,  looking  at  a  square  little  box  on  the  seat  beside 
her.  It  had  been  covered  with  a  shawl,  which  had 
fallen  from  over  it,  exposing  it  to  view. 

"Thet?  Thet's  a  jihilosophy  machine.  Y'  see  my 
friend,  Sal  Glassick,  she  knows  a  heap  o'  things. 
She's  tryen  ter  beat  some  on  'em  inter  my  pore  noddle. 
Reckon  she  won't  hev  no  easy  time." 

13 


t4  chickamaUga. 

"What  branch  does  she  teach  ye  with  that?" 

"VVal,  ye  see  mother  she's  sufferin'  with  palsy,  'n 
this  hyar  box  is  a — wal,  Sal,  she  calls  it  a  gal — 
gal " 

"Galvanic  battery?" 

"Thet's  it.  Y'  hit  it  right  thar.  A  galvanic  bat- 
tery. We'uns  're  goen  ter  try  't  on  mother.  Lord- 
a-massy,  what's  thet?" 

She  directed  his  attention  from  the  box  to  a  cloud 
of  smoke  hanging  over  the  gaps  in  the  hills  far  to  the 
west.  They  were  crossing  a  mountain  spur  and  could 
see  it  quite  plainly. 

"There's  foightin'  goen  on  there,"  remarked  the 
corporal. 

"  'N  you'uns  air  gitten  licked,"  observed  the  re- 
bellious Miss  Baggs. 

"How  d'ye  know  that?"  asked  Ratigan,  surprised 
that  she  should  know  anything  about  it. 

"Oh,  I  reckon." 

"It's  a  quare  thing,  the  reckonen  ov  gurrels." 

"Wal,  ye  see  women  hain't  got  the  big  heads  men 
hev.  Th'  can't  reason  things  out.  They  hev  t'  jump 
at  'em,  mebbe,  like  ants.  Ants  is  powerful  small,  but 
they're  most  times  right  when  they  reckon." 

Ratigan  made  no  reply.  He  was  thinking  that  Miss 
Baggs  did  not  appear  to  be  so  plain  a  personage  as  he 
at  first  thought  her.  He  looked  at  her  hands,  encased 
in  coarse  gloves,  and  noticed  that  they  were  small  for 
"poor  white  trash."  Her  attire  was  very  cheap  and 
her  cowhide  shoes  did  not  betoken  refinement;  but 
somehow  he  began  to  gather  a  notion  that  Miss  Baggs 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  1 5 

was  not  so  dreadfully  common  as  she  appeared.  The 
corporal  came  of  an  excellent  family  in  his  native  land, 
and  under  ordinary  circumstances  could  detect  refine- 
ment. He  looked  for  Miss  Baggs  to  use  some  expres- 
sion beyond  the  ken  of  a  "poor  white"  girl,  but  she 
did  not.  So  he  dismissed  the  matter  from  his  mind 
and  began  to  wonder  what  excuse  he  could  make  to  go 
on  with  her  under  flag  of  truce  when  she  should  pass 
the  Union  pickets. 

"We'uns  air  goen  slow  enough  ter  worrit  a  snail," 
remarked  Miss  Baggs. 

"And  why  should  we  be  goen  faster?" 

"Whar'd  y'  steal  thet  critter?"  she  asked,  instead  of 
replying,  looking  sidewise  at  the  corporal's  mount. 
"It's  likely  'nuff  fo'  Tennessee  blood." 

"Oh!  That's  United  States;  don't  you  see  the 
'U.  S.'  branded  on  him?" 

"Can  he  trot?" 

"He  can  beat  anything  in  the  brigade." 

"D'ye  think  he  can  trot  with  this  hyar  critter  o' 
mine." 

Ratigan  looked  at  her  raw-boned  brute  and  burst 
into  a  laugh. 

"Wal,  now,  you  needn't  take  on  so.  Reckon  I  c'd 
give  y'  a  brush  ef  y'  was  minded." 

"All  right,  me  dear;  here's  a  straight  bit  of  road." 

"Fo'  what  stakes?" 

"A  five-dollar  greenback." 

"Agin  Confederate  money?" 

"With  pleasure." 

The  corporal  drew  forth   a   crisp    five-dollar  bill. 


1 6  CHICK  A  MA  UGA . 

And  Miss  Baggs  put  the  thumb  and  finger  of  one  hand 
in  the  palm  of  the  other  under  her  glove,  and  drew 
out  a  Confederate  shinplaster. 

"Who  holds  the  stakes?"  asked  the  corporal  glee- 
fully. 

"You'uns." 

"Divil  a  bit.      The  lady  shall  hold  'em." 

She  took  the  bill  he  handed  her  and  gave  the  lines 
a  jerk  with  a  "git  along  thar!"  "Remember,  it's  a 
trottin'  race." 

Ratigan  was  at  a  disadvantage  from  the  first.  He 
did  not  dare  to  use  his  spurs  lest  his  horse  should 
break  from  a  trot.  Miss  Baggs's  animal  began  to  reach 
his  lank  legs  out,  triangulating  in  a  lumbering  fashion 
that  put  him  over  the  ground  at  no  inconsiderable 
speed.  The  corporal  did  his  best  and  kept  pace 
pretty  well. 

"Reckon  my  'Bob  Lee'  kin  knock  the  stuffin'  outen 
your  critter,  Mr.  sojer.      Git  up,  Bob." 

With  that  Bob  increased  the  length  of  his  triangula- 
tions,  increasing  their  frequency  at  the  same  time. 
The  result  was  that  he  carried  the  old  buggy  with 
Betsy  Baggs  in  it  right  away  from  the  corporal.  In- 
deed, Ratigan  fell  behind  steadily.  If  he  should 
break  from  a  trot  he  would  lose  the  race,  if  he  should 
keep  up  his  trot  he  would  lose  Miss  Baggs. 

Suddenly  an  officer  appeared  on  the  road  and  re- 
garding him  sternly  ordered  him  to  halt. 

"Oi'm  followin'  the  young  lady,  sir.      Oi'm  on  of- 

cial  business  for  the  gineral,  commandin'  the th 

cavalry  brigade," 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  1 7 

"Well,  my  man,  you're  a  well-disciplined  orderly ; 
you  keep  the  regulation  forty  paces  to  the  rear.  Give 
your  horse  the  spur  and  catch  up." 

Ratigan,  who  could  not  well  explain  to  an  officer 
that  he  was  running  a  race,  and  fearing  to  lose  his 
charge,  gave  his  horse  the  spur  and  dashed  after  her 
at  a  gallop.      He  reached  her  in  a  "blown"  condition, 

"Oi've  lost,"  he  cried,  out  of  breath. 

"Reckon  y'  have,"  was  Miss  Baggs's  sole  reply. 

"The  money's  yours." 

"Reckon  it  ar,"  repeated  Miss  Baggs. 

"Yer  always  reckonen.  Mebbe  ye  reckoned  about 
the  end  of  the  race  loike  the  ant  ye  were  talkin' 
about." 

At  that  moment  they  espied  the  outpost  ahead. 

"Wal,  hyar  we  air,"  said  Miss  Baggs.  "Don't 
want  t'  part  from  you'uns,  Mr.  sojer.  I'm  powerful 
bad  struck  hyar."  And  she  put  her  hand  on  her 
heart. 

"Like  enough  Oi  can  find  some  reason  to  go  on  with 
ye  a  bit.     Oi'm  all  broken  up  meself,  sure  enough." 

"I  hopes  y'  kin." 

"Lieutenant,"  said  the  corporal,  saluting  an  officer 
who  came  out  from  the  picket  post.  "Major  Burke 
ordered  me  to  see  this  young  lady  out  of  the  lines. 
She  has  a  pass  to  Dunlap." 

The  lieutenant  read  the  pass  and  told  Miss  Baggs 
she  might  go  through. 

Ratigan  was  racking  his  brains  to  know  what  to  do. 
He  had  been  instructed  to  go  through  with  Miss 
Baggs  under  some  pretense,  but  his  ingenuity  when 


1 8  CHICK  A  MA  UGA . 

put  to  the  test  failed  him.  Miss  Baggs  came  to  his 
relief. 

"Mr.  Corporal,"  she  said,  "I  don't  hanker  ter  part 
'ith  thet  bloomen  head  o'  har  o'  yourn.  Would  y' 
mind  seein'  a  pore  lone  woman  ter  th'  Confederate 
lines?" 

The  corporal  whispered  a  few  words  in  the  lieuten- 
ant's ear.  The  result  was  that  in  five  minutes  four 
cavalry  privates  were  placed  under  the  corporal's 
orders,  who  held  in  his  hand  a  pole  cut  from  a  tree  at 
the  side  of  the  road,  to  which  he  had  attached  a  white 
cotton  handkerchief. 

Then  the  old  buggy,  which  rattled  at  every  turn  of 
the  wheel  and  threatened  to  collapse  at  every  mudhole, 
proceeded  down  the  road.  Corporal  Ratigan  can- 
tered alongside,  while  the  four  privates  followed 
directly  in  rear. 

But  a  few  miles  had  been  traversed  when  a  horse- 
man— he  proved  to  be  the  enemy's  vedette — was  seen 
standing  in  the  road  ahead.  As  the  party  approached, 
they  saw  a  dozen  more  advancing  to  his  support.  But 
the  Confederates  evidently  saw  the  white  flag,  for  no 
other  demonstration  was  made  than  the  riding  for- 
ward of  an  officer  with  half  a  dozen  men  to  meet  those 
who  were  advancing. 

"What  do   you   want?"    asked   the  officer  gruffly. 

"Flag  to  see  the  lady  to  your  lines." 

".Under  a  commissioned  officer?" 

"Only  meself,  a  corporal,"  said  Ratigan. 

"Well,  you  can  turn  about  pretty  quick,  and  get 
back  to  where  you  came  from.     The  next  such  flag 


CHICK AMA  UGA.  i^ 

sent  out  will  be  taken  in  and  won't  get  out 
again." 

"Captain,  don't  you  know  me?"  said  Miss  Baggs, 
smiling  at  the  officer. 

"Well,  upon  my  word.     You  don't  mean " 

Miss  Baggs  put  her  finger  on  her  lip. 

"These  men  came  at  my  request,"  she  continued, 
"so  I  hope  you  will  not  find  any  fault." 

The  officer  raised  his  hat,  but  said  nothing. 

"Good-morning,  corporal,"  she  said.  "I'm  much 
obliged  for  your  trouble." 

"You're  quite  welcome,  miss." 

Both  parties  moved  away  simultaneously.  They 
had  scarcely  started  before  the  corporal  heard  his 
name  spoken  in  a  v/oman's  voice,  but  one  with  which 
he  was  not  familiar. 

"Rats!" 

He  turned  and  saw  what  must  be  Miss  Baggs,  for 
her  dress  was  the  same,  though  the  head  and  neck 
were  changed,  standing  in  the  buggy,  her  back  to  the 
horse,  her  face  directly  toward  him.  Her  glasses 
were  gone,  her  sunbonnet  hung  in  one  hand,  while  she 
held  the  reins  in  the  other.  Never  had  the  corporal 
beheld  so  great  a  change  in  so  brief  a  s];)ace  of  time. 
The  jolting  had  disarranged  a  mass  of  dark  hair  which 
had  partly  fallen  over  her  shoulders.  Her  eyes  were 
black  and  lustrous,  her  complexion  an  olive  relieved 
by  a  ruddiness  on  the  cheek.  Her  superb  head  was 
set  on  her  neck  as  if  it  had  been  placed  there  by  an 
artist.  The  face  was  lighted  by  a  smile  of  triumph  — 
a  smile  so  bewitching  that  it  haunted  the  corporal  to 
his  dying  day. 


20  chickamaugA. 

Ratigan  had  not  recovered  from  his  surprise  before 
she  spoke  to  him  in  a  rich  contralto  voice,  as  little  like 
that  he  had  heard  from  her  as  a  fife  is  like  the  mellow 
tones  of  an  organ. 

"Corporal,  please  present  my  compliments  to  Major 
Burke  and  thank  him  for  me  for  his  kindness,  and  tell 
hii"rt  that  when  he  sends  another  woman  through  the 
lines  under  pretense  of  keeping  her  eyes  shut,  when 
he  has  an  especial  purpose  of  his  own  in  view,  not  to 
send  an  Oirishma?i  for  an  escort,"  The  smile  on  her 
lips  broadened  and  showed  a  set  of  white  teeth. 
"The  Oirish  race  as  diplomats  are  not  usually  suc- 
cessful.    Au  revoir,  corporal." 

There  was  a  grin  on  the  faces  of  the  Confederate 
lookers-on,  and  astonishment  on  the  honest  counte- 
nance of  Corporal  Ratigan. 

"And  Rats,"  she  continued,  evidently  enjoying 
bringing  out  the  word  with  her  rich  voice,  as  one  loves 
to  roll  old  wine  on  the  tongue,  "when  a  woman  de- 
sires to  race,  it  is  not  always  for  the  money  up."  She 
tossed  the  bill  she  had  won  toward  him. 

"And,  Rats!  don't  race  again  with  anyone  with  a 
raw-boned  animal  with  long  legs.  'Bobby  Lee*  is 
from  the  Blue  Grass  regions  of  Kentucky.  There's 
something  wrong  about  his  breathing  apparatus,  but 
even  with  that  disadvantage  he  can  trot  a  mile  over  a 
good  road  in  2.50." 

Had  Miss  Baggs  appeared  less  bewitching  as  she 
stood  there  under  the  protection  of  half  a  dozen  Con- 
federate troopers,  Ratigan  would  have  turned  away 
impatiently.  As  it  was,  she  seemed  to  hold  him  by  a 
spell. 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  2 1 

"One  thing  more,  my  bonny  cardinal  flower.  Tell 
the  major  that  I  like  'the  young  man  from  County 
Cavan'  he  has  recommended  tome,  very  much."  Her 
eyes  fairly  danced.  "When  the  war  is  over  I  hope 
you  will  look  me  up.  Inquire  for  Betsy  Baggs  at  the 
St.  Cloud  Hotel,  Nashville." 

With  this  she  threw  him  a  kiss  from  the  tips  of  her 
fingers,  which,  now  that  her  glove  was  removed,  he 
noticed  were  white  and  round.  There  was  really 
something  sympathetic  in  the  last  glance  she  gave  him. 
In  it  was  a  regret  tliat  it  had  been  necessary  for  her 
to  deceive  so  honest  and  manly  a  fellow.  It  was  the 
final  dart  that  pierced  the  Irishman's  heart  and  com- 
pleted his  enthrallment. 

Leaving  the  corporal  and  his  men  gaping  in  the 
road  the  party  moved  away.  The  last  thing  Ratigan 
heard  was  a  hoarse  laugh  from  one  of  the  Confederates, 
which  was  rebuked  by  Miss  Baggs  and  reprimanded 
by  the  officer. 

The  corporal  led  his  party  northward  in  no  good 
humor.  At  the  picket  post  he  left  the  men  he  had 
taken  with  him,  and  rode  on  alone  meditatively.  In 
passing  a  part  of  the  road  where  there  was  no  one  to 
hear  he  reined  in  his  horse  and  exclaimed  aloud: 

"Damn  it!  I  believe  the  witch  is  carrying  impor- 
tant information." 

The  thought  filled  him  with  horror.  Who  was  she? 
What  was  she?  What  was  the  box  she  called  a  gal- 
vanic battery?  For  more  than  an  hour  he  had  at- 
tended a  rude  country  girl,  who  when  under  the  pro- 
tection of  Confederate  officers,  bloomed  into  a  hand- 


2  2  CHICK  AM  A  UGA . 

some  woman.  He  was  as  much  chagrined  at  his  own 
stupidity  as  he  was  bewildered  by  the  cunning  of  Miss 
Baggs. 

Entering  camp  he  slunk  away  to  his  tent,  and  did 
not  report  the  outcome  of  his  mission  to  Major  Burke 
till  just  before  "taps."  Then  he  only  said:  "Their 
pickets  are  three  miles  down  the  road  beyond  ours." 

"Are  ye  share?" 

"Oi  am.  Oi  left  the  young  lady — Oi  mean  the 
counthry  gurrel — among  'em.  And  the  vixen  blew 
me  a  kiss  at  parten." 

"Ah,  Rats,  ye're  a  sly  dog.  Oi'm  shure  ye  did 
your  work  well." 

"Major,"  replied  the  corporal,  "don't  ye  believe  it. 
All  the  divils  in  hell  if  they  be  men  are  no  match  for 
a  woman." 

"And  if  they  be  women,  Rats?" 

"Then  God  save  'em  both." 


III. 

A    DEVOTED    CONFEDERATE. 

ON  the  morning  of  the  general  advance  of  the  Army 
of  the  Cumberland  a  drizzling  rain  set  in  which 
lasted,  at  intervals,  during  the  whole  campaign.  Day 
after  day  the  men  tramped  through  the  mire,  often  to 
lie  down  at  night  with  no  means  of  lifting  themselves 
out  of  pools  except  by  cutting  the  wet  branches  from 
the  trees,  and  on  these  making  a  bed  in  drenched 
clothes.  The  artillery  soon  cut  up  the  roads  so  that 
the  guns  sank  to  the  hubs  of  the  wheels.  The  right 
continued  to  march  toward  the  left  and  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  base  of  the  Cumberland  plateau,  where 
Miss  Betsy  Baggs  and  the  others  were  passing  between 
the  lines.  The  Unionists  were  moving  upon  gaps  in 
the  foot  hills  held  by  the  Confederates,  and  necessary 
to  the  latter  to  prevent  their  enemies  getting  on  their 
right,  and  thus  compelling  them  to  leave  their  fortifi- 
cations at  Tullahoma  and  fight  on  open  ground. 

It  was  the  day  that  the  Union  men  attacked  these 
gaps  that  Miss  Baggs  passed  under  Confederate  pro- 
tection, and  the  farmer  and  the  two  young  people  with 
him  were  also  pursuing  their  route  south.  Fortunately 
for  him,  the  farmer,  being  on  the  flank  of  the  two 
armies,  was  not  forced  to  pass  over  roads  cut  up  by 

23 


24  CHICK  AM  A  VGA. 

either.  After  Major  Burke  had  administered  the  oath 
not  to  divulge  anything  they  had  seen  concerning  the 
Union  forces  to  the  farmer  and  the  young  girl  in  the 
wagon  with  him  (he  considered  the  boy  too  young  to 
treat  in  the  same  way),  the  party  were  suffered  to 
depart  and  proceeded  down  the  road. 

"Jake,"  said  the  farmer,  slapping  the  horses'  backs 
Avith  the  reins,  '>what  hev  y'  larned  at  skule?" 
"Larned  how  terp  lay  'hop  scotch'  and  'shinny.' 
"I  don't  mean  thet  kind  I  mean  real  larnen." 
"Jakey  was  at  a  great  disadvantage,  pa,"  remarked 
the  girl  on  the  rear  seat,  "because  he  was  obliged  to 
go  in  classes  with  little  bits  of  boys.      You  remember 
he  didn't  know  his  letters  when  he  went  to  school." 
"No  more  did  you,"  said  the  father. 
"Oh,  yes,  I  did.     I  began  to  study  them  a  month 
before  I  went  away,  and  I  taught  Jakey,  so  that  he 
knew  something  about  them,  too,  when  he  got  there." 
"Air  th'  doen  much  talken  'bout  th'  war  up  no'th?" 
"Well,  it  isn't  at  all  like  it  is  down  hyar"  (no  South- 
erner will  ever  change  the  pronunciation  of  this  word). 
"They  take  lots  of  interest  in  it  'n  all  that,  but  laws, 
't's  one  thing   to   get  up  in  th'  morning  'n  read   the 
papers  'bout  battles  'n  such  things,  'n  another  to  have 
soldiers  running  all  over  y',  specially  taking  the  gar- 
den truck  'n  the  horses  outen  th'  barn — I  mean  out  of 
the  barn.     Teacher,  she  had  the  hardest  work  to  break 
me  from   saying  'outen'  for  'out  of.'     It  seems  she 
hasn't  quite  done  it  yet."     She  spoke  the  last  words 
with  a  sigh. 

"Lordy,    Souri,  y'  talk  like   a  fine  lady  compared 


CHICK  AM  A  UGA.  25 

'ith  what  y'  did  afore  y'  went  no'th.  Jake,  would  y' 
like  ter  drive  'em?" 

"Reckon." 

The  father  handed  the  reins  to  his  son,  who,  consid- 
ering that  he  had  not  driven  a  horse  for  a  year,  handled 
them  with  considerable  skill. 

"How  did  y'  leave  ma?"  asked  the  daughter. 

"Wal,  yer  maw  she  war  a  heap  lonesome  'thout 
you'uns,  'n  she's  been  a  worriten  fo'  fear  ye'd  git  sick 
up  thar  'ith  no  one  ter  tend  ter  y',  but  sence  th'  time 
fo'  yer  comen  hum  hez  drawed  nigh  she's  puckered 
up  pretty  peart." 

The  boom  of  a  gun  came  faintly  from  far  down  on 
the  lower  level  and  the  cannonading  heard  by  Cor- 
poral Ratigan  and  his  charge  began.  Taking  up  the 
whip  the  countryman  gave  his  horses  a  cut. 

"I  want  ter  make  hum  afore  somep'n  happens. 
Thur's  goen  ter  be  a  big  fight  'bout  Tullyhoomy. 
Thur's  forts  all  round  the  place  'n  big  guns  on  'em." 

The  horses  trotted  on  briskly  for  a  short  distance, 
when  looking  ahead  the  farmer  could  see  the  picket 
post.  He  got  his  pass  ready  and  when  they  reached 
the  post  an  officer  came  out  to  examine  it. 

"Is  your  name  Ezekiel  Slack?"  he  asked  of  the 
farmer. 

"Zeke  Slack,  yas,  thet's  my  name." 

"And  yours?"  to  the  girl,  raising  his  forage  cap 
admiringly. 

"Missouri  Slack." 

"The  other  name  on  the  pass  refers  to  the  boy,  I 
suppose.     You  have  a  name,  sonny,  haven't  you?" 


2  6  CHICK  A  MA  UGA . 

he  asked  absently,  while  he  was  studying  the  pass. 
Though  it  is  questionable  if  the  inquiry  was  not  in- 
tended to  show  some  facetiousness  before  the  pretty 
girl. 

"Hev  I  got  hr    .^" 

"O  Jakey,"  said  his  sister,  "don't  fall  back  into 
that  habit  of  asking  questions,  instead  of  answering 
them.  You  know  how  hard  they  tried  to  break  you 
of  it  at  school.     And  say  'hair,'  not  'har. '  " 

"I  got  a  name,"  said  Jake.  "D'  y'  reckon  a  boy, 
fourteen  's  goen  ter  git  on  'thout  a  name?" 

"Well,  what  is  it?"  asked  the  officer,  smiling. 

"Jake." 

"Jake  what?" 

"Slack,"  answered  the  farmer.  "These  two'uns  is 
my  children.  Th'  ben  ter  skule  up  in  Ohio.  Th' 
got  lots  o'  larnen.  Reckon  they'll  down  th'  old 
man." 

"Union  or  Confederate  sympathies?" 

"Union." 

"All  right.     Go  ahead." 

Leaving  the  picket,  they  came  to  an  opening  in  the 
country  which  enabled  them  to  get  a  view  of  the 
region  lying  to  the  west.  The  farmer,  though  desir- 
ous of  getting  on,  could  not  resist  a  temptation  to  rein 
in  his  horses  and  Avatch  the  fighting,  or  the  distant  evi- 
dences of  it,  that  morning  going  on  at  Hoover's  Gap. 
Volleys  of  musketry  were  mingled  with  the  deeper 
tones  of  cannon.  Then  the  firing  ceased  for  a  while, 
when  the  booms  began  again,  continued  and  rapid. 
A  white  smoke  rose  above  n  ridge  on  which  Confed- 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  2  7 

erate  cannons  were  shelling  the  advancing  Union 
troops  on  the  ground  below.  Souri  Slack  thought  of 
the  lives  that  were  passing  from  under  that  smoke  and 
covered  her  face  with  her  hands. 

When  the  sounds  ceased  Farmer  'Jack  drove  on, 
and  soon  reached  the  Confederate  picket.  The  party- 
were  sent  in  charge  of  a  trooper  to  the  headquarters 
of  an  officer  commanding  a  body  of  cavalry  on  the 
Confederate  extreme  left.  His  headquarters  were  in 
a  house  beside  the  road.  It  had  once  been  in  the 
center  of  a  neat  country  place.  The  fences,  the  out- 
houses, the  walks,  had  all  been  in  excellent  condition 
prior  to  the  first  passage  of  troops.  Now,  of  the 
fences  there  was  an  occasional  upright  post  left;  the 
walks  were  overgrown  with  weeds  and  grass;  the  out- 
houses had  nearly  all  been  torn  down.  The  place  was 
a  picture  of  desolation.  Nevertheless,  the  general  who 
temporarily  resided  there  was  making  himself  very 
comfortable. 

The  wagon  drew  up  before  the  house  and  the  con- 
ducting trooper  sent  in  word  to  the  general  that  a 
party,  who  had  come  in  from  the  Union  lines,  were 
waiting  outside,  desiring  permission  to  go  on  south. 
An  order  came  to  send  the  party  all  inside. 

The  three  travelers  entered  the  house  to  find  a  tall 
man  with  an  iron-gray  beard  reclining  in  a  rocking- 
chair  with  as  much  apparent  unconcern  as  if  war  were 
simply  a  pastime. 

"You  have  just  come  from  the  enemy's  lines,  I 
hear,"  he  said  to  the  farmer, 

"Yas,  sir." 


28  CHICKAMAVGA. 

"What  force  did  you  see  in  the  region  through 
which  you  passed?" 

The  farmer  explained  that  he  could  not  answer  the 
question,  inasmuch  ^s  he  had  been  permitted  to  pass 
after  taking  an  oath  not  to  give  any  information. 

"H'm.  You  are  quite  right  not  to  answer  under 
the  circumstances,"  observed  the  general.  "Did  your 
daughter  take  the  same  oath?" 

"Yas,  general,"  said  Souri. 

"Surely  they  didn't  administer  an  oath  to  a  boy  of 
your  age?"  he  said,  turning  to  Jakey. 

"Reckon  th'  thought  I  war  too  little  to  swar, "  said 
Jakey.  He  thrust  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  a-  sure 
sign  that  he  was  steadying  himself  for  a  conflict  of 
wits  and  words.  But  the  general  was  not  acquainted 
with  the  peculiar  cliaracteristics  of  Jakey  Slack,  and 
prepared  to  question  him  as  unconcernedly  as  he 
would  pump  water  from  a  well. 

"What  route  did  you  come?"  he  asked  of  the 
farmer. 

"I  met  the  children  at  Galletin,"  replied  Slack. 
"I  driv  'em  from  thar  through  Lebanon  and  Liberty." 

"Sonny,"  said  the  general,  turning  to  Jakey,  "did 
you  pass  any  troops  on  the  way?" 

"Lots." 

"Infantry?" 

"What's  thet?" 

"Soldiers  who  walk  and  carry  guns." 

"Didn't  see  none  o'  them  kind,'' 

"Did  you  see  any  artillery?" 

"Don't  know  what  them'iins  air," 


CHICK  AM  A  UGA.  29 

"Men  with  great  big  guns — cannon." 

"No,  sir.     Didn't  see  no  'tillery." 

"Then  what  you  saw  must  have  been  cavalry." 

"Didn't  see  none  o'  them'uns  nuther." 

The  general  looked  surprised. 

"Then  what  did  you  see?  That's  all  the  arms  of 
the  service  I  ever  heard  of;  and  I  am  an  old  soldier." 

"Critter  companies." 

"Oh,  I  see,"  exclaimed  the  general,  remembering 
the  mountain  Tennesseans' name  for  cavalry.  "How 
many  soldiers  belonging  to  the  'critter  companies',  as 
you  call  thenj,  did  you  see?" 

"Wal,  I  counted  twenty,  'n  thet's  's  fur  as  I  got  at 
countin'  in  skule." 

Souri  was  about  to  remind  her  brother  that  he  had 
proved  himself  one  of  the  best  boys  in  the  school  at 
mental  arithmetic,  but  desisted. 

"H'm!"  The  general  thought  a  moment  and  beat  a 
reveille  with  his  fingers  on  the  arm  of  his  chair. 

"What  were  they  doing  within  the  Federal  lines 
just  before  you  left  the  outposts?" 

"Wal,  I  only  noticed  one  man,  'n  he  war  doen 
somep'n  very  partickeler." 

"What  was  it?" 

"He  war  looken  at  the  sky  through  a  flat  round 
thing  what  looked  like  a  big  squashed  apple." 

"Not  a  field  glass,  was  it?" 

"No,  sir;   reckon  'twasn't  thet." 

"Was  the  man  of  high  rank?" 

"Reckon  he  war;  he  had  stripes  on  his  arm." 

"Tut,  tut,  he  wore  chevrons,     He  Avas  only  a  non- 


3©  CHICKAMAUGA. 

commissioned  ofificer.  Can't  you  describe  more  nearly 
the  object  through  which  he  was  looking?" 

"VVal,  I  think  I  hearn  some'un  call  it  a  can — 
can " 

"Not  a  canteen?" 

"Yes,  thet's  it." 

The  general  looked  sharply  at  the  boy,  who  looked 
stolidly  stupid.  He  determined  to  try  another  route 
through  which  to  lead  Jakey's  infantile  mind. 

"Were  the  troops  you  saw  in  camp,  or  on  the 
march,  or  in  bivouac?" 

"Don't  know  what  thet  ar  last  air;  but  th'  trees  'n 
brush  war  so  thick  I  couldn'  see  plain." 

"Can't  you  tell  me  if  you  saw  any  infantry;  sol- 
diers who  walk  and  carry  guns,  you  know?" 

"I  never  looks  at  them  kind  o'  sojers, "  replied 
Jakey  contemptuously.  "1  only  notices  'em  when 
they're  on  critters'  backs." 

"That  will  do,"  said  the  general.  Then  turning  to 
a  staff  ofificer  near  him,  he  said: 

"Captain,  you  may  pass  these  people  South,"  and 
added  in  an  undertone:  "Ride  over  to  division  head- 
quarters and  say  that  nothing  has  yet  been  obtained  of 
the  enemy's  movements  in  this  vicinity  by  questioning 
citizens.  Only  one  party  has  come  through,  a  farmer 
with  his  son  and  daughter.  The  farmer  and  his 
daughter  took  an  oath  not  to  give  any  information 
concerning  the  dispositions  of  the  enemy,  and  the  boy 
is  profoundly  stupid." 

There  was  a  sound  of  hoofs  without,  mingled  with 
the  rattle  of  wheels,     Looking  through  an  open  win- 


CHICKAMAUGA,  3 1 

dow,  an  officer  was  seen  to  dismount  and  hand  a 
woman  from  a  mud-covered,  paint-rubbed  buggy. 
All  recognized  Miss  Elizabeth  Baggs.  The  general 
arose  from  his  chair  and  went  out  to  meet  her  at  the 
front  door.  From  there  he  conducted  her  into  a  room 
where  they  could  confer  together  alone. 

"What  luck?"  he  inquired. 

"I  struck  their  wires  within  their  lines  midway 
between  Murfreesboro  and  MacMinnville,  at  mid- 
night, and  no  one  was  near.  I  threw  my  wire  over 
the  line  and  made  my  connections  with  my  instru- 
ment. I  waited  till  nearly  daylight  before  any  mes- 
sage of  importance  came  along,  though  dispatches 
were  passing  all  the  while.  At  last  one  came  in 
cipher.  I  took  it  down,  but  as  we  haven't  the  key, 
I  fear  it  will  avail  us  nothing." 

"Let  me  see  it,"  said  the  general. 

Miss  Baggs  handed  him  a  piece  of  paper  on  which 
was  written : 

Murfreesboro,  Tenn. 
June  28,  '63. 
Volunteers  Garfield  with  circling  between  you  pos- 
session turn  an  be  cob  Bumble  at  to  get  that  possible 
by  move  Benjamin  pony  chief  rapidity  around  that 
put  of  the  hours  ready  shingle  to  notice  enemy's  Tul- 
lahoma  your  point  the  by  of  poliwog  of  plateau  Nig- 
gard if  desire  and  hope  forward  to  haha  move  we 
right  I  command  and  mountain  order  staff. 

The  general   read  the  dispatch  over  carefully  and 
then,  looking  up  at  Miss  Baggs,  remarked: 
"Balked." 


32  CHICK  AM  A  UGA. 

"Can't  it  be  interpreted,  general?" 

"I  fear  not  without  the  key.  It  is  doubtless  an 
important  dispatch,  and  I  shall  send  it  at  once  to  gen- 
eral headquarters.  If  they  can  decipher  it  they  are 
welcome  to  do  so.     I  don't  care  to  try  it." 

Calling  an  aid-de-camp  the  general  bade  him  carry 
the  message  to  the  army  telegraph  station,  a  short  dis- 
tance to  the  rear,  and  repeat  it  to  General  Bragg. 

"General,"  said  Miss  Baggs  in  an  undertone,  "if 
you  will  let  me  have  the  original  or  a  copy,  I  will  try 
to  decipher  it.  I  may  find  a  clew  that  will  aid  me 
hereafter,  though  I  fear  it  will  be  too  late  to  take  ad- 
vantage of  information  contained  in  this  one." 

"Certainly.  Lieutenant,  return  the  dispatch  I  have 
given  you  to  this  lady,  after  it  has   been  repeated." 

The  officer  departed.  The  general  turned  again  to 
Miss  Baggs  with  a  serious  look. 

"Do  you  know  that  you  are  engaged  in  a  very  haz- 
ardous service.?" 

"Perfectly." 

"And  do  you  understand  the  penalty,  if  caught?" 

"Death,  I  suppose." 

"There's  no  telling  whether  it  would  be  death  or  a 
long  imprisonment  in  the  case  of  a  wom.an;  a  man 
would  hang." 

Miss  Baggs's  countenance  changed  from  an  expres- 
sion of  indifference  to  one  of  those  flashes  of  the  super- 
human attributes  that  lurk  within  the  human  soul. 

"Am  I  to  make  anything  of  my  life,  when  thousands 
of  the  South's  defenders  are  giving  theirs  every  day? 
Have  I  not  seen   our  homes  laid  desolate?     Have  I 


CHICk'AMAUGA.  %% 

not  seen  my  brothers,  my  friends,  those  I  have  loved, 
those  I  have  played  with  as  children,  cut  down  by 
either  the  bullet  or  disease?  For  months  I  devoted 
myself  to  the  care  of  the  sick  in  the  hospitals.  There 
I  learned  to  dread  a  long  continuance  ot  this  struggle. 
There  I  conceived  the  idea  of  doing  something  to  win 
success  for  our  armies  by  giving  them  an  advantage 
not  possessed  by  the  enemy.  I  consulted  one  high  in 
rank.  'How  can  I  give  my  life  to  the  best  advan- 
tage?' I  asked.  'In  the  secret  service.'  'Point  the 
way.'  'Do  you  know  anything  of  telegraphy?'  'No, 
but  I  can  learn.'  'Go  and  study  a  month,  and  then 
come  to  me.'  For  a  month  I  studied  night  and  day. 
I  learned  to  read  words  from  the  clicking  of  the  keys 
as  readily  as  I  can  read  letters.  I  returned  to  my 
adviser.     You  know  the  rest." 

The  general  paced  the  floor  with  a  clouded  brow. 

"I  dread  a  catastrophe,"  he  said,  "in  the  case  of 
one  inspired  by  such  noble  sentiments.  I  dread  to 
see  a  woman  exposed  to  ignominy — perhaps  death." 

"If  that  time  comes,  general,  God  will  give  me 
strength  to  bear  it." 

The  general  was  silent  a  moment,  and  then  asked 
abruptly: 

"Is  your  brother  aware  of  what  you  are  doing?" 

"He  is." 

"And  he  consents?" 

"He  does  not.  We  are  individuals.  He  is  one  of 
the  noblest  of  the  South's  legitimate  defenders,  but  he 
is  not  responsible  for  my  acts — one  of  its  illegitimate 
machines." 


34  CHICk'AMAUGA. 

"The  pitcher  that  goes  often  to  the  well  is  at  last 
broken." 

"Then,  someone  else  will  spring  up  to  carry  on  the 
work." 

"God  grant  that  the  day  may  be  far  distant;  that 
it  may  never  come.  I  can  hardly  approve  of  it, 
though  you  are  working  in  my  cause." 

"General,"  said  the  woman,  her  face  again  lighting 
as  if  inspired  by  some  absorbing  thought,  "each 
side  has  an  organized  secret  service.  What  general 
would  dare  report  to  his  government  that  he  had 
acquired  information  which  would  enable  him  to  de- 
stroy his  enemy,  but  it  had  been  obtained  by  illegiti- 
mate means  and  he  would  not  take  advantage  of  it? 
Yet  what  general  would  care  to  be  called  a  spy  him- 
self? We  are  engaged  in  a  terrible  struggle.  Before 
its  close  any  and  all  means  will  be  used  to  conquer. 
Cities  will  be  burned,  vast  districts  will  be  laid  waste. 
Must  I  cease  to  employ  the  most  effective  method  of 
all,  because  I  am  doing  illegitimate  work?  Is  my 
work  more  illegitimate  than  trying  to  conquer  a  peo- 
ple fighting  for  their  independence?" 

The  genera]  made  no  reply  for  a  time. 

"Yours  is  a  singular  family,"  he  said  presently, 
"You  are  all  alike,  and  yet  you  differ." 

"We  are  united  in  the  cause,  we  differ  as  to  the 
means." 

The  interview  was  interrupted  by  the  ringing  of  a 
dinner  bell  in  the  hall.  The  general  called  a  negro 
and  bade  him  show  Miss  Baggs  to  a  room  upstairs,  to 
which  she  retired  for  a  few  minutes.  The  servant 
brought  in  her  belongings  from  the  buggy,  together 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  3  5 

with  the  little  box.  When  she  came  downstairs  the 
party  were  waiting  for  her  before  going  in  to  dinner. 
Souri,  who  had  seen  her  covered  by  the  sunbonnet 
and  her  eyes  screened  with  glasses,  was  astonished. 
She  saw  a  woman  three  or  four  years  older  than  her- 
self, the  beauty  of  her  head  and  neck  contrasting  with 
the  homeliness  of  her  costume.  Miss  Baggs  noticed 
Souri's  surprise,  and  going  up  to  her  took  both  her 
hands  and  kissed  her  cheek. 

"You  sweet  child,"  she  said  feelingly,  "you  can't 
get  over  my  appearance  when  you  met  me  on  the  road 
this  morning,  can  you?  What  a  'fright'  I  must  have 
seemed  to  you!  I  don't  care  for  those  Yankee 
officers,  but  bless  your  innocent  heart,  I  can't  bear 
to  have  shocked  you." 

Souri  did  not  reply  in  words,  but  she  looked  at 
Miss  Baggs  admiringly. 

"Don't  think  hard  of  me,"  the  latter  went  on,  draw- 
ing Souri  aside  and  motioning  the  rest  to  go  on  into 
the  dining  room,  "I  do  only  what  I  believe  to  be  a 
duty,  for  you  must  suspect  that  I  keep  a  secret.  You 
could  not  play  a  part  beneath  you,  child;  you  are  too 
loving,  too  innocent,  and  you  wonder  how  any  other 
woman  can." 

"I  did  once." 

"When?" 

"Before  I  went  to  school." 

"For  your  country?'' 

"No." 

Miss  Baggs  looked  into  Souri's  deep  eyes,  and 
asked  softly: 

"For  love?" 


36  CHICKAMA  UGA. 

Souri  dropped  her  eyes  to  the  floor,  but  her  ques- 
tioner, who  by  this  time  had  put  an  arm  around  her, 
received  no  reply. 

"Come,"  she  said,  "let  us  not  torture  each  other. 
T  see  we  both  have  our  secrets." 

She  led  the  way  to  the  dinner  room,  where  the  gen- 
eral and  his  staff  were  standing  waiting  for  the  two 
women.  The  party  were  joined  by  Farmer  Slack 
and  Jakey,  and  all  sat  down  at  a  signal  from  the 
general. 

It  was  a  singular  mixture  of  people  about  the  board. 
All  were  Confederates  except  the  Slacks,  and  their 
Union  sentiments  were  soon  discerned.  In  a  mo- 
ment the  general  and  his  staff  grew  reserved.  Not  so 
Miss  Baggs.  Seeing  that  Souri,  with  her  natural  sen- 
sitiveness, felt  the  change,  she  treated  her  with  far 
more  attention  than  before. 

"Never  mind,  my  dear,"  she  said  sympathetically, 
looking  reproachfully  at  an  officer  who  referred  slight- 
ingly to  the  "Union  rufifians"  of  East  Tennessee. 
"We  were  all  Federal  once,  and  nobody  knows  but 
we  may  have  to  be  again.  The  country  is  large 
enough  for  all.  We  are  engaged  in  settling  the  mat- 
ter, and  have  no  time  for  recriminations.  All  we  have 
to  do  is  to  keep  our  wits  and  strike  hard.  They  say 
all's  fair  in  love  and  in  war." 

"Which  air  Rats?"  asked  Jakey,  looking  up  at  her 
with  a  pair  of  little  black  eyes  that  glistened  with — 
she  could  not  tell  what.  If  forced  to  express  it  she 
would  have  used  some  such  paradoxical  expression  as 
"glistened  with  stupidity." 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  3  7 

"What  do  you  mean,  you  enfant  terrible  V  she 
asked,  slightly  coloring. 

"Is  Rats  love  or  war?" 

"Who's  Rats?"   asked  the  general. 

"He  means  Corporal  Ratigan,  general,  a  splendid 
specimen  of  a  young  Irishman,  whom  I  was  obliged  to 
hoodwink  this  morning  in  the  Yankee  camp.  I  ad- 
mire the  Irish ;  they  are  so  ingenuous.  But  we  all 
admire  those  unlike  ourselves." 

"What's  hoodwinken?"   asked  Jakey. 

"Well,  I  was  obliged  to  appear  pleased  with  him." 

"Looken  at  him  outen  yer  eyes  that-a-way?" 

"Come,  come,  you  little  fiend,  if  you  say  another 
.word,  I'll  turn  you  over  to  the  general  to  be  dealt  wit'n 
summarily  for  interfering  with  Government  agents." 
She  laughed,  but  there  was  a  lack  of  heartiness. 
Evidently  Jakey  had  touched  some  chord  that  twanged 
discordantly. 


IV. 

A  guerrilla's  home. 

"  A  DISPATCH  for  you,  general." 
l\  An  aid-de-canip  entered,  followed  by  a  tall, 
bronzed  Confederate  cavalryman  with  very  muddy 
boots,  and  a  Southern  sombrero  on  his  head.  In  his 
hand  he  carried  a  sealed  envelope,  on  the  left-hand 
corner  of  which  was  printed  "Official  Business." 

"Why  not  bring  it  yourself?"  asked  the  general, 
evidently  put  out  at  being  interrupted  at  dinner. 

"The  messenger  says  that  he  was  instructed  to 
deliver  it  to  no  one  but  yourself.  It  is  from  general 
headquarters." 

The  man  stalked  in,  his  accouterments  rattling  as 
he  did  so,  and  removing  his  hat,  handed  the  general 
the  communication.  He  opened  it,  and  seeing  that  it 
was  in  cipher,  handed  it  to  a  member  of  his  staff  who 
possessed  the  key,  and  directed  him  to  unravel  it.  It 
read  as  follows: 

Headquarters  Army  of  Tennessee, 

June  27,  1862. 

To    General  ,    Commanding  Cavalry  on    extreme 

right. 
Mir     rrwec     Irddrx     mexrr     Izi     krxn     m     nbpy 
mfsfhse      ut      tixwrax     dari     sm     mirwc     gb     igjq 

38 


CHICKAMAUGa. 


39 


vvini    kltvq    gs    Ijssga    mikkingmfy    fc    Ivdzvkwvgc. 
Egzi    jwpxy    tx     bagw.* 

Braxton  Bragg,  Covid'g. 

Scarcely  had  the  general  given  the  dispatch  over  for 
interpretation  when  another  from  the  same  source, 
which  had  come  by  telegraph,  was  handed  him  also, 
evidently  an  inextricable  jumble  of  letters.  This  too 
was  taken  up  by  the  cipher  officer.  In  the  course  of 
half  an  hour  he  handed  interpretations  of  both  to  his 
chief.     The  first  read  as  follows : 


The  enemy  having  taken   the  gaps  I  will  abandon 


*  To  decipher  this  dispatch  take  as  key  words  "Tennessee 
River."  Run  the  eye  down  the  column  at  the  top  of  which  is  the 
first  letter  of  the  key-term  till  the  first  letter  of  the  dispatch  to  be 
deciphered  is  reached.  To  the  left  in  the  column  will  be  found 
the  first  letter  of  the  interpretation.     Thus  : 


n  e  s  s  e 


river 


rrwec        1      rddrx 


m  under  t  at  left  of  tabl 

1       "       e       " 

r       "       n       "         " 


n 


This  process  is  repeated  to  the  end  of  the  dispatch.     This  code 


4^  CHICK  A  MA  VGA . 

my  present  line.     Be   ready  to  form   rear  guard    to 
troops  retreating  by  University.     Move  south  at  once. 

Here  is  the  second: 

Enemy's  telegram  in  cipher  received  Cannot 
Miss  Baggs  secure  information  of  the  enemy's  inten- 
tions as  to  following  this  army  across  the  Tennessee? 
Such  information  would  enable  us  to  be  prepared  if 
he  attacks  in  concentrated  form  or  cut  him  up  in  de- 
tail if  he  divides. 

The  general  gave  the  two  messages  a  few  minutes* 


was   used    by   the   Confederates   during   most   of   the  period  of 

the  war. 

KEY. 

26252423222120191817161514131211109   87654321 

labcd  ef  gh  i  j  kl  mnopqr  s  t  uvwxyz 

sbcde  fg  hi  jk  Imnopqrs  t  iivwxyza 

3cde  fgh  i  jk  Imn  opqrs  t  uvwxyzab 

4defghi  jk  Imnopqrs  t  uvwxyzabc 

5efgh  i  j  klmnopqrs  tuvwxyzabcd 

6fgh  i  j  k  Imnopqr  s  tuvwxyzabcde 

7ghi  jklmnopqrstuvwxyzabcdef 

Shijklmnopqrstuvwxyzabcdefg 

91  jk  Imnopqr  s  tuvwxyzabcd  efgh 

10  jk  Imnopqrs  tuvwxyzabcde  fghi 

iiklmnopqrs  tuvwxyzabcde  fgh  ij 

izlmnopqr  s  t  uvwxyzabcde  fgh  i  jk 

13  m  n  o  p  q  r  s  t  u  V  w  X  y  z  a  b  c  d  e  f  g  h  i  j  k  1 

i4nopqr    s    t    uvwxyza    bcde    fgh    i    j    k    Im 

I50pqrs    tuvwxyzabcdefgh    i    jklmn 

i6pqrs    tuvwxyzabcdefgh    i    j    k    Imno 

i7qrstuvwxyzabcdefghijklmnop 

iSrstuvwxyzabcdefghijklmnopq 

19  s    tuvwxyzabcdefgh    i    j    klmnopqr 

2otuvwxyzabcdefghi    j    klmnopqrs 

2iuvwxyzabcdefghi    jklmnopqrst 

22vwxyzabcdefghi    jklmnopqrs    tu 

23wxyzabcdefghi    jklmnopqrs    tuv 

24xyzabcde    f    ghi    j    k    Imnopqr    s    t    uvw 

25  yzabcdefghijk    Imnopqrs    t    11   vwx 

26zabcde    fghi    j    k    Imnopqr    s    tuvwx    y 


CHICK  AM  A  UGA.  4* 

consideration,  and  then  dismissing  the  aid  who  had 
interpreted  them,  directed  him  to  inform  Miss  Baggs 
that  he  would  like  to  see  her. 

When  she  entered  the  general  handed  her  the  inter- 
preted copies  of  the  two  dispatches. 

"Here  is  a  more  important  work  for  you  than  any 
you  have  yet  attempted,"  he  said. 

She  read  both  the  dispatches  and  then  thought  a 
few  minutes. 

"I  am  ready  to  undertake  it,  general,"  she  said, 
"but  without  much  hope  of  success.  I  must  first  suc- 
ceed in  taking  off  a  message  in  which  the  plan  of  the 
Yankees  is  given,  or  hinted  at  so  clearly  as  to  be 
inferred,  and  then  it  must  be  interpreted,  for  it  will 
surely  be  in  cipher." 

"If  you  could  succeed  in  both  you  would  insure  us 
victory  in  the  west,  and  that  would  be  half  the  battle 
to  the  cause." 

"I  will  undertake  it." 

"You  will  be  exposed  to  a  frightful  danger." 

"You  know,  general,  that  I  have  devoted  my  life  to 
this  work.      I  consider  that  as  already  sacrificed." 

"We  move  front  here  at  once,  as  you  see  by  the 
order  just  received." 

"I  will  go  with  you  a  part  of  the  way  and  watch  an 
opportunity  to  slip  back  behind  the  Union  lines." 

With  that  Miss  Baggs  went  out  and  the  general 
began  his  preparations  to  cover  the  retreat  of  the  right 
of  the  Confederate  army. 

No  further  attention  was  paid  to  Farmer  Slack  and 


4  2  CHICK  A  MA  VGA . 

his  family.  Evidently  there  was  business  of  greater 
importance  on  hand.  They  went  out  on  to  the  door- 
step, where  they  stood  wondering  what  was  going  on 
about  them.  Everyone  was  stirring.  An  orderlx 
dashed  up  to  the  door  leading  an  ofificer's  horse 
saddled  and  bridled.  An  aid  ran  out  of  the  house, 
and  mounting  in  hot  haste  rode  away.  A  man  from 
an  upper  window  called  out  to  him: 

"What's  up?" 

"They've  secured  the  gaps." 

"Which?" 

"Liberty  and  Hoover's.     All  of  'em." 

"Well,  what  of  it?" 

"What  of  it?  It  means  retreat."  And  before  the 
last  word  was  spoken  he  was  out  of  sight. 

In  a  few  minutes  a  bugle  was  heard.  Its  tones  had 
scarcely  died  away  before  the  camp  was  alive  with 
men  preparing  to  move. 

The  farmer  determined  to  get  his  children  into  the 
wagon  as  soon  as  possible.  He  had  been  given  his 
pass,  which  for  the  present  at  least  was  likely  to  be  of 
little  use,  as  he  would  simply  follow  the  army.  The 
party  lost  no  time  in  getting  to  the  wagon  and  into  it, 
and  drove  down  the  road.  But  they  were  too  late. 
The  way  was  choked  with  horsemen  and  wagons  and 
they  were  soon  brought  to  a  halt.  The  general 
dashed  past  with  his  staff,  and  who  should  be  by  his 
side,  her  striped  dress  covered  with  a  gray  riding 
skirt,  a  sombrero  on  her  head,  with  a  jaunty  cock's 
feather  encircling  its  crown,  but  Miss  Baggs.  Seeing 
the   farmer's    wagon     waiting    by    the    roadside,   she 


CHICK  AM  A  UGA.  43 

reined  in  "Bobby  Lee"  beside  Souri  and  took  her 
hand. 

"Good-by,  my  dear.  I  trust  that  your  innocent 
heart  will  not  have  to  suffer  more  than  the  rest  of  us 
during  the  continuance  of  this  fearful  struggle.  You 
know  we  are  all  being  tried  in  a  fiery  furnace.  We'll 
meet  again  ;  I  know  it.  If  you  ever  need  any  help  or 
protection  when  our  army  is  near,  hunt  up  Betsy 
Baggs." 

"Whar's  th'  chicken  coop?"  called  Jakey,  as  she 
rode  away. 

"What  chicken  coop?" 

"Th'  one  on  wheels." 

"Oh  !  The  buggy,"  she  said,  smiling.  "I  left  that 
for  the  Yankees  to  pick  up  when  they  come  along." 

"Rats  '11  be  ridin'  inter  it,  I  reckon." 

"If  he  can  find  it,  he's  welcome  to  it,"  and  with  a 
laugh  she  dashed  after  the  rest. 

Farmer  Slack  only  succeeded  in  getting  a  few  miles 
on  the  way  before  nightfall,  then  coming  to  a  small 
village  he  made  up  his  mind  that  it  would  be  better  to 
sleep  there  than  attempt  to  go  on  through  a  country 
being  abandoned  by  one  force  to  be  immediately 
occupied  by  another.  He  knew  well  the  crowded 
condition  of  the  roads,  and  the  perils  of  night  travel. 
*So  singling  out  a  house  beside  the  road,  which  was  the 
main  street  of  the  place,  and  seeing  a  woman  standing 
in  the  door,  he  asked  if  she  would  give  him  and  his 
party  a  night's  lodging. 

"Reckon  I  kin  keep  you'uns,  but  hain't  got  no 
stablen  fo'  th'  critters." 


44  Chick  A  ma  ugA  . 

"Oh,  I  kin  find  a  place  fo'  them'uns,"  said  Slack, 
and  handing  out  his  daughter  she  went  into  the  house 
with  Jakey,  while  the  farmer  drove  otf  to  find  shelter 
for  the  horses.  Jakey  wished  to  go  with  him,  but  his 
father  bade  him  stay  with  Souri. 

The  woman  of  the  house  was  depressed.  She  was 
not  strong,  and  the  continued  successive  occupation 
of  the  country,  by  Union  and  Confederate  troops,  for 
more  than  a  year,  had  completely  worn  her  out. 

And  now  another  shifting  was  at  hand.  At  first  she 
had  spoken  her  sentiments  freely — they  were  with  the 
Confederacy — but  lately  she  had  come  to  endeavor- 
ing to  find  out  the  sentiments  of  strangers  before 
betraying  her  own.  Wondering  whether  she  was 
harboring  Unionists  or  Secessionists,  she  began  to 
question  Jakey. 

"Reckon  you'uns  live  nigh  'bout  hyar,  don't  y', 
boy?" 

*'Nigh  onter  th'  Sequach." 

"Let  me  fill  that  kettle  for  you,"  said  Souri,  seeing 
the  woman  about  to  take  up  a  wooden  bucket  she  was 
scarcely  able  to  lift.  The  woman  suffered  her,  and 
went  on  making  inquiries  of  Jakey. 

"Thur  mixed  over  thar;  some's  Union  'n  some's 
Secesh.     Which  air  yer  paw?" 

"Wal,  I  ben  ter  skule  a  year  'n  paw  he  mought  'a* 
changed  sence  1  went  away." 

"Don't  say  'mought,'  Jakey  dear,"  said  Souri. 

The  woman  looked  at  Jakey  inquiringly. 

"V  couldn't  'a*  larned  much  at- skule,  ef  y'  reckon 
a  man's  goen  ter  change  sides  in  this  hyar  fight.     Th' 


CHICKAMAUGA.  45 

git  wusser  'n  wusser.  Still,  ef  ye'd  a  ben  hyar,  ye'd 
a  larned  thet.      Reckon  y'  ben  no'th  to  skule." 

"We  have  been  north,  in  Ohio,"  said  Souri,  as  she 
put  the  kettle  on  the  stove. 

The  mistress  of  the  house  was  entirely  alone  save 
for  her  children,  who  were  all  small.  She  managed  to 
get  up  a  fair  supper  for  her  guests — though  Souri  did 
most  of  the  work  in  preparing  it.  Notwithstanding 
the  soldiers  had  drained  everything  visible  in  the 
house,  the  larder  was  by  no  means  depleted.  If  peo- 
ple who  live  for  a  long  time  in  a  country  overrun  by 
troops  don't  learn  to  keep  a  bite  for  a  hungry  day 
concealed  in  a  safe  place,  they  are  not  remarkable  for 
brightness.  At  any  rate,  the  hostess  suddenly  ap- 
peared in  the  kitchen  with  a  good  bit  of  bacon,  which 
seemed  to  come  from  the  sky.  In  a  few  minutes  it 
was  frying  in  a  skillet,  and  Souri  took  some  coffee 
from  her  bag,  which  she  began  to  grind.  It  was  not 
long  before  all  were  around  the  table,  tlie  hostess 
drinking  the  first  cup  of  real  coffee  she  had  drank  in 
a  year. 

By  dark  the  Southern  troops  had  vanished  from  the 
place,  and  the  inhabitants  began  to  dread  the  coming 
of  another  army.  At  nine  o'clock  all  was  quiet  and 
the  denizens  of  the  house  in  which  the  Slacks  rested 
were  in  bed.  There  were  four  rooms.  One  was 
given  to  Souri,  one  to  Farmer  Slack  and  Jakey,  a 
third  being  occupied  by  the  woman  and  her  children. 
The  fourth  was  parlor  and  kitchen  combined. 

There  is  something  dismal  in  a  country  place  on  the 
first  night  after  the   departure  of  an   army,  whether 


4<5  CHICKAMA  UGA. 

they  be  friends  or  foes.  While  it  is  present  there  is 
some  feeling  of  protection.  Ofificers  are  there  to 
restrain  lawlessness.  But  upon  their  departure  the 
country  is  left  in  a  rear  more  to  be  dreaded  than  the 
presence  of  soldiers.  At  the  front  there  is  no  lawless- 
ness, unless  it  be  the  lawlessness  which  exists  between 
armed  enemies.  All  is  at  the  highest  possible  ten- 
sion. Two  thin  lines  of  men  hold  all  about  them  at 
the  muzzles  of  gleaming  rifles.  Behind  this  line  is  the 
main  force,  in  the  midst  of  which  the  generals  govern 
with  autocratic  military  authority.  But  in  the  wake 
of  an  army  comes  a  flow  of  refuse  as  in  the  channel  of 
a  river  suddenly  cleared  in  logging  time.  No  one 
commands.  There  is  either  confusion  or  nothing; 
and  in  the  South  during  the  Civil  War  the  rear  was 
infested  by  the  land  pirates,  the  dreaded  guerrillas, 
who  respected  neither  man,  woman,  nor  child,  and 
whom  no  man  respected. 

It  was  midnight  at  the  little  frame  house  where  slept 
the  Slack  family.  Farmer  Slack  was  awakened  by  a 
pounding  at  the  front  door.  Then  he  heard  the 
woman  by  whom  they  were  sheltered  get  up,  and 
going  to  the  door  let  someone  in.  The  partition  was 
thin  and  every  word  that  was  said  could  be  plainly 
heard. 

"Lordy,  Ben,  whar  did  y'  come  from?"  asked  the 
woman. 

"Tullahomy." 

"Whar  y'  goen  ter?" 

"Up  inter  the  mountings." 

"What  fur?" 


CHICK  AM  A  UGA.  47 

"Ter  lay  low  till  the  armies  move  on  south.  Then 
we'uns  're  goen  ter  harig  in  the  tailens  of  the  Yanks. 
Thur's  better  feedin'  than  thur  is  behind  Confeder- 
ates." 

"0  Ben,  I  wish  you'd  stop  this  business.  Go  'n 
jine  one  o'  the  armies,  I  don't  keer  which;  only  stop 
this  kind  o*  work." 

"Polly,  you  know  I've  been  driv  to  't.  What  have 
they  left  us?  Nothin'  but  this  house.  Ef  I  didn't 
rake  among  the  refuse  that  the  Yankees  leave  behind 
'em  whar  w'd  you  'n  th'  children  be?" 

"But  why  air  y'  leaven  now,  Ben?  What  does  't  all 
mean,  the  men  goen  south?  Hain't  th'  goen  ter  fight 
at  TuUyhomy?" 

"Ther  gitten  outen  Tullyhomy  this  very  minute." 

"How  d'ye  know?" 

"I  kem  from  thar  this  afternoon.  The  trains  were 
goen  outen  the  place  loaded  with  supplies.  What's 
them  things  doen  thar?" 

He  pointed  to  some  of  the  belongings  of  the  Slack 
family.  The  farmer  could  hear  the  woman  caution 
her  husband  to  speak  low;  but  by  that  time  Slack's 
ear  was  at  a  crack. 

"Ther's  a  family  hyar  stayen  all  night,"  she  whis- 
pered. 

"Any  critters?" 

"Two;  but  I  don't  want  y'  ter  take  'em,  Ben, 
It's  onnateral.  Thur's  a  sweet  young  gal  ez  helped 
me  git  supper,  'n  I  wouldn't  hev  nothin'  happen  to 
her  fur  the  world." 

"I  won't  take  thur  critters  tel  after  y'  git  me  some- 


48  CHI  CKA  MA  UGA . 

p'n  ter  eat.  Come,  be  lively,  my  dear,  I  hevn't  hed 
a  squar  meal  'n  two  days." 

"Whar's  the  gang?" 

"I  left  'em  a  mile  t'other  side  o'  th'  town.  We  got 
ter  git  inter  th'  mountings  afore  th'  Federals  come 
along.     Whar  air  the  young'uns?" 

"In  thar." 

The  farmer  could  see  the  man  go  into  a  room  into 
which  the  candle  from  the  one  adjoining  cast  a  dim 
light.  The  father  bent  over  the  sleeping  little  ones. 
He  said  not  a  word,  but  Slack  could  see  upon  his  face 
what  he  would  say : 

"My  home  is  broken  up.  I  am  a  vagabond — a 
wreck.  If  caught  by  either  side,  I  would  be  sent  out 
under  care  of  a  file  of  soldiers,  told  to  run  for  my  life 
and  be  shot  down.  These  innocent  children  must 
suffer  with  the  rest.  They  will  grow  up  to  point  to  a 
father  who,  from  an  honest  man,  became  a  guenilhi. 
My  wife  is  breaking  down  and  will  not  last  long.  If 
I  live  to  the  close  of  the  struggle  I  shall  doubtless 
come  back  to  a  heap  of  ashes  where  this  house  stands. 
For  when  they  learn  to  whom  it  belongs  they  will 
burn  it." 

The  man  put  his  lean  face  down  beside  the  round, 
warm  cheek  of  a  child  and  groaned. 

"Jakey!"  whispered  Farmer  Slack. 

Jakey  awakened,  but  could  not  make  it  known, 
because  his  father  had  clapped  his  hand  over  his 
mouth. 

"Be  still,  my  boy,  till  I  git  yer  clothes.  Don't  yer 
make  no  sound  fo'  yer  life;  thur's  guerrillas  in  th' 
house," 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  40" 

The  farmer  got  Jakey's  clothes  and  his  own.  They 
put  them  on,  using  all  the  caution  possible.  Then 
the  farmer  took  his  son's  hand  and  led  him  on  tiptoe 
to  the  open  window.  Once  there  he  took  him  up  in 
his  arms  and,  passing  him  through  it,  dropped  him  on 
the  ground  a  few  feet  below.  Then  Slack  got  through 
himself  and  dropped  beside  Jakey. 

"Now  for  the  stable,  my  son." 

Going  across  some  vacant  lots  they  reached  the 
stable  and  took  out  both  the  horses. 

"Jake,"  said  the  father,  "I'm  goen  to  the  head- 
quarters of  the  Federals.  I  want  yer  to  stay  'n  take 
keer  o'  yer  sister." 

"Souri  don't  need  no  one  ter  take  keer  o'  her." 

The  farmer  went  back  into  the  stable,  leaving 
Jakey  to  hold  the  horses,  and  brought  out  a  saddle 
and  bridle. 

"Wal,  Jake,"  he  said  presently,  "she's  a  gal  'n  may 
need  y'." 

"What  yer  goen  fo'?" 

"T'  tell  'em  the  Southern  men  air  gitten  outen 
Tullyhomy.  'T  may  make  a  lot  o'  differ  ter  th' 
cause." 

"Why  can't  /  go  'n  do  thet?" 

The  farmer  made  no  reply;  he  went  on  equipping 
the  horse  for  a  ride;  but  he  was  thinking.  After  all, 
wouldn't  a  boy  have  a  better  chance  to  get  through 
than  a  man.  He  had  great  confidence  in  Jakey's 
abilities  in  this  direction,  for  they  had  been  tested 
long  before,  nearer  the  beginning  of  the  war.  Then 
he  disliked  to  leave  his  daughter  without  protection  in 
a  lawless  territory. 


5  O  CHICK  A  MA  UGA . 

"Jake,"  he  asked  at  last,  "do  y'  think  y'  c'd  do  't?" 

'  'Reckon." 

"I  kin  put  y'  on  th'  road  't  Manchester.  Thar  or 
before  y'  git  thar  y'U  find  Yankees.  But  yer  powerful 
little  fo'  sichajob."  And  the  farmer  looked  at  his 
son  undecidedly. 

"Do  y'  think  I'm  a  babby  ter  be  rocked  in  a 
cradle?" 

"No,  Jakey;  yer  a  'markable  little  chap.  Thur's 
not  'nother  boy  o'  your  age  livin'  I'd  trust  to  carry 
this  message.     I  reckon  I'll  let  y'  try  it." 

Slack  took  Jakey  up  in  his  arms  and  sat  him  on  the 
horse.  Then  he  shortened  the  stirrups  till  all  the 
holes  in  the  straps  were  exhausted,  when  he  cut  new 
ones,  making  the  length  a  proper  one  for  Jakey's  little 
legs. 

"Now,  Jake,"  said  his  father,  in  a  tone  that  bespoke 
a  desire  to  put  resolution  into  himself  and  the  boy  at 
the  same  time,  "tell  th'  Federal  general  that  a  guerrilla 
kem  to  the  house  whar  we  war  sleepen,  and  tole  his 
wife  thet  the  Southern  men  air  gitten  outen  Tully- 
homy.  He  kem  from  thar  this  afternoon.  'N,  my 
boy,  ez  I  ofen  tole  y'  afore,  remember  yer  a  Unioner, 
'n  hain't  afraid  o'  nothin'.     Thar's  th'  road." 

"Tom,  you  git.  " 


V. 

CARRYING    THE    NEWS. 

HAD  not  Jakey  Slack  possessed  a  stout  heart  he 
would  have  quailed  at  pushing  out  in  the  mid- 
dle of  a  dark  night  on  a  road  of  which  he  had  no 
knowledge,  and  possessing  the  disadvantage  of  being 
occupied  by  neither  Union  nor  Confederate  troops. 
Between  the  rain  and  the  artillery  and  the  wagons, 
the  roads  were  all  cut  to  pieces.  Water  stood  every- 
where, and  often  where  the  way  was  over  a  depression 
in  the  ground,  it  was  necessary  to  pass  through  small 
lagoons.  This,  in  the  daytime,  when  one  might  keep 
the  road  by  observing  the  fences — when  there  were 
any — would  not  have  been  so  difficult,  but  overshad- 
owed by  the  great  black  wings  of  night  there  was 
absolutely  no  guide,  save  by  feeling  underfoot,  or  an 
occasional  glimmer  ahead  indicating  that  the  way  lay 
through  an  opening  in  the  forest. 

Tom  floundered  along  at  a  very  slow  pace.  Jakey 
found  it  not  only  difficult  to  keep  him  in  the  road,  but 
impossible  to  keep  out  of  mudholes  when  on  it.  Now 
Tom's  fore  legs  would  sink  into  a  soft  spot  and  again 
would  splash  into  a  deep  rut;  or  one  leg  would  be  in 
the  rut  while  the  other  was  on  the  higher  ground. 
Then  he  would  flounder,  while  Jakey  held  on  to  the 
51 


52  CHICKAMAUGA. 

saddle  with  all  his  strength,  to  keep  from  being  thrown 
off  by  Tom's  writhings.  All  the  while  a  drizzling  rain 
was  slowly  working  its  way  through  Jakey's  jacket  to 
get  at  the  skin.  The  boy  tried  to  guide  his  horse  for 
a  while,  but  finally  concluded  that  Tom  was  far  better 
qualified  to  find  his  way  than  he  was  himself,  and 
dropping  the  reins  on  the  pommel  of  the  saddle, 
turned  his  undivided  attention  to  keeping  his  seat. 
Every  now  and  then  Tom  would  stop,  and  look  about 
him,  as  much  as  to  say:  "Jakey,  I  don't  like  the  looks 
o'  things  at  all."  But  if  Jakey  understood  him  he 
made  no  comment  on  the  remark.  He  had  ulaced 
Tom  in  command  and  did  not  propose  to  interfere. 

Along  the  way  there  Avere  signs  of  an  occasional 
camp  fire,  which  Jakey  assumed  doubtless  warmed 
guerrillas.  But  Jakey  was  not  so  much  afraid  of  guer- 
rillas as  they  were  of  him.  At  times  when  they  would 
hear  his  horse's  hoofs  beating  on  the  road  or  splash- 
ing through  water,  Jakey  could  see  them  trying  to 
cover  the  embers,  or  kick  out  the  fires  with  their  boot 
heels.  No  one  would  ever  suspect  any  save  a  troop 
of  cavalry  to  be  traveling  that  road  at  that  time  of 
night  and  through  so  much  mud  and  water.  Jnkey 
paid  no  attention  to  these  marks  of  life  by  the  way, 
but  suffered  Tom  to  grope  through  the  darkness. 
True,  he  did  not  know  but  at  any  moment  some  bush- 
whacker, supposing  him  to  be  alone,  would  put  a 
bullet  through  him  in  order  to  discover  if  he  had  any 
valuables  about  him,  or  more  likely  with  a  hope  of 
becoming  possessed  of  a  good  pair  of  boots — a  neces- 
sary  luxury  in    the   South    in   those   days — but   the 


CHICKAMA  UGA.  53 

thought  was  no  more  terrifying  than  a  tree  looming 
specter-like  beside  the  road.  It  was  too  dark  to  dis- 
tinguish the  true  character  of  any  object,  and  all  took 
on  fantastic  shapes,  especially  when  touched  by  the 
tints  laid  on  by  Jakey's  imagination. 

Just  before  morning  the  darkness  grew  thicker. 
Tom  had  for  several  miles  proved  himself  worthy  of 
the  confidence  reposed  in  him  and  had  kept  the  road, 
but  all  of  a  sudden  he  brought  up  against  a  snake 
fence. 

Jakey  was  discouraged.  He  knew  that  Tom  had 
lost  the  road,  and  as  for  himself,  he  did  not  feel  com- 
petent to  find  it  again.  Bringing  the  horse  sideways 
to  the  fence  he  slid  off  onto  the  top  rail  and  then 
down  onto  the  ground.  Holding  the  reins  and  lead- 
ing Tom, — for  he  dared  not  leave  him  lest  he  might 
not  find  him  again, — the  boy  groped  around  for  a  while 
looking  for  the  road.  It  was  of  no  use.  Go  where 
he  would  there  were  only  stumps  and  grass,  every 
hollow  being  filled  with  water. 

He  thought  of  lying  down  in  a  fence  corner  to  sleep 
till  morning.  But  he  did  not  like  to  do  this,  for  fear 
that,  once  asleep,  he  would  not  wake  up  till  late  the  next 
day;  and  then  the  Southern  army  might  be  away  from 
TuUahoma  with  all  its  stores,  and  perhaps  there  were 
a  great  many  other  advantages  they  would  gain  that 
caused  Jakey — being  a  good  Union  boy — to  wince, 
though  he  could  not  name  them.  But  there  seemed 
no  alternative;  it  could  not  be  more  than  two  hours 
before  daylight  would  show  him  the  road,  and  he 
reluctantly  concluded  to  go  into  bivouac.     As  he  was 


54  chIckamaVga. 

looking  for  a  good,  broad,  flat  rail  to  stretch  himself 
on,  Tom  put  his  nose  over  his  shoulder  affectionately 
and  rested  it  there.  Never  before  had  Jakey  felt  so 
deeply  any  interchange  of  sympathy  with  a  dumb 
brute. 

"Tom,  ole  critter,"  he  said,  putting  his  arms  about 
the  horse's  neck,  "this  air  lonesome." 

And  Tom  seemed  to  respond  as  plainly  as  if  the 
words  were  spoken : 

"Jakey,  you  bet." 

Maybe  Tom  had  an  object  in  view  more  important 
th?.n  an  offer  of  sympathy.  Maybe  he  had  something 
to  communicate.  At  any  rate,  as  Jakey  stood  with 
his  arms  around  the  lowered  neck  and  looking  over  it, 
he  espied  a  light. 

"Golly,  Tom!"  he  exclaimed,  "I  reckon  y'  sor  't." 

In  a  moment  he  had  climbed  the  fence  and  had 
regained  his  place  in  the  saddle.  Then  pointing  the 
horse's  head  directly  for  the  light  with  a  "Git  up, 
Tom,"  rider  and  horse  were  soon  away  in  the  direc- 
tion of  its  appearance. 

Suddenly  there  was  an  ominous  click,  whicli  in  the 
stillness  of  the  night  sounded  with  all  the  distinctness 
of  the  cocking  of  a  gun. 

"Who  comt  dare?" 

"Mister,  can  y'  put  me  onto  the  road?" 

"Who  you  vas?" 

"I'm  a  boy,  I  air." 

"Vat  you  vant,''" 

"I  want  't  go  to  Manchester." 

"Vat  for?" 


CHICK  AM  A  UGA .  5  5 

Jakey  thought  a  moment  before  replying.  The 
question  occurred  to  him,  was  this  surely  a  Union 
picket.  No  Confederate  would  be  likely  to  challenge 
with  a  German  accent. 

"I've  got  some  information  for  Mister  Rose — 
Rose — what's  his  name." 

"Sheneral  Rosecrans?" 

"Yes." 

The  picket  being  convinced  from  Jakey's  voice  that 
he  was  a  child,  called  out:   "Comt  up  here." 

Jakey  jogged  Tom,  and  endeavored  to  find  the 
man,  but  he  was  ensconced  behind  a  little  runnel  in  a 
clump  of  trees,  and  Jakey  couldn't  get  at  him. 

"Vy  you  not  comt  nearer?"  asked  the  picket 
sharply. 

"Why  hain't  I  got  cat's  eyes?"  replied  Jakey. 
"Oh,  thar  y'  air,  air  y'?  Nobody  hain't  goen  ter 
shoot  'thout  finden  y',  'n  nobody  hain't  goen  ter  find 
y'  'cept  somebody  what's  used  ter  hunten  in  th' 
dark." 

"Comt  along  mit  me,  young  vellar." 

The  picket  put  Jakey  on  the  road,  which  was  not  a 
hundred  yards  away,  and  led  him  to  the  light  he  had 
seen.  It  proved  to  be  a  smoldering  fire  of  a  picket 
post.  A  lieutenant  was  there  and  a  dozen  men,  some 
sitting  on  the  roots  of  trees,  leaning  against  the  trunks, 
or  against  stumps  dozing,  while  others  huddled  about 
the  fire,  which  was  dying  for  want  of  fuel,  since  all  the 
dead  wood  lying  about  had  been  consumed. 

"Vat  you  haf  dare?"  asked  the  lieutenant,  seeing 
the  picket  come  in,  followed  by  Jakey  seated  on  Tom 


5  6  CHICKAMAUGA. 

"You  vasn't  trifen  in  py  a  poy  like  dot,  vas  you?" 
asked  a  man  lying  on  his  stomach  by  the  fire. 

"I  want  to  go  to  headquarters,"  said  Jakey. 

"Vat  for?" 

Jakey  went  through  the  explanation  he  had  made 
to  the  picket. 

"Corporal,"  said  the  lieutenant,  "take  him  to  de 
guard  tent  and  durn  him  ofer. " 

Jakey  was  not  aware  what  being  turned  over  meant, 
but  he  followed  the  corporal  without  question.  Had 
he  been  familiar  with  soldiers'  expressions  he  would 
have  known  that  everything  a  soldier  is  responsible 
for  must  be  turned  over  to  someone  else  before  his 
responsibility  ceases.  The  boy  was  led  for  more  than 
a  mile  to  a  cavalry  camp.  By  this  time  there  was  a 
glimmer  of  coming  day,  and  objects  were  gradually 
becoming  visible.  As  they  reached  the  camp  the 
"officer  of  the  day"  was  starting  out  to  ride  along  the 
picket  line.  Seeing  Jakey  led  in,  he  rode  up  to  him 
and  began  a  fire  of  questions.  All  these  troops  were 
Germans,  and  everyone  spoke  with  the  German  pro- 
nunciation. Jakey  waited  till  the  officer  and  the  sen- 
try had  exhausted  the  vocabulary  of  German-English 
words,  and  then  informed  the  former  that  he  had  some 
very  important  information  of  the  enemy's  move- 
ments, that  he  wished  to  deliver  to  the  proper  person. 

"Vat  is  it?" 

"I'll  only  give  it  t'  th'  general." 

"Vat  sheneral?" 

"Any  general  what  ought  ter  know  't." 

"Vill  a  colonel  vat  acts  as  prigatier-sheneral  do?" 


CHICKAMAUGA.  57 

"Reckon." 

"All  right.  Corporal,  dake  him  to  prigade  head- 
quarters." 

And  the  officer  rode  off  to  perform  his  morn- 
ing duty  of  a  six  or  eight  mile  ride  before 
breakfast. 

Jakey  was  led  over  a  stubble  field  which  had  not 
been  planted  since  the  previous  season,  and  brought 
before  a  group  of  half  a  dozen  tents,  the  headquarters 

of  the  colonel  commanding  the th  cavalry  brigade. 

The  colonel  had  not  yet  risen.  Jakey's  conductor 
explained  to  the  sentinel  on  post  that  the  boy  had 
important  information,  whereupon  the  sentinel  shouted, 
loud  enough  to  wake  the  whole  army:  "Corporal  of 
the  guard!"  The  summoned  soldier  came  and  it  was 
explained  to  him  that  Jakey  had  important  informa- 
tion. The  corporal  went  off  to  fetch  the  officer  of  the 
guard. 

"What  you  want,  sonny?"  asked  that  person  when 
he  arrived,  buttoning  a  coat  he  had  just  put  on. 

"I  don't  want  nothin'." 

"Oh,  you  don't.     I  thought  you  did." 

"Reckon  I  got  somep'n  you'uns  want,  but  I'm  git- 
ten  tired  answeren  questions  'bout  't," 

"Well,  what  is  it,  my  little  man?" 

"I  ain't  no  little  man.     I'm  a  boy." 

"Can't  you  tell  me  what  you  have  for  us?"  asked 
the  officer,  smiling. 

"Can't  tell  nobody  but  somebody  big." 

"I  don't  know  anybody  bigger  than  our  chief  of 
Staff  about  here,     I'll  call  him," 


5  8  CHICK  A  MA  UGA . 

So  the  chief  of  staff  was  called  up  and  informed 
that  Jakey  had  information  of  the  enemy. 

By  this  time  Jakey  began  to  fear  that  by  the  time 
he  could  get  in  his  information  to  the  commander  of 
the  army,  General  Bragg  would  be  across  the  Ten- 
nessee River,  but  he  was  doing  his  duty  as  best  he 
could,  so  he  waited,  trusting  that  along  this  line  of  red 
tape  he  would  at  last  find  some  end.  He  had  reached 
that  point.  The  chief  of  staff  called  up  the  colonel 
commanding,  who  suddenly  appeared  at  the  tent  door 
in  a  pair  of  trousers  and  a  woolen  shirt. 

It  was  evident  from  the  moment  the  colonel  espied 
Jakey  sitting  on  old  Tom  in  front  of  the  tent,  and 
Jakey  espied  the  slender  figure  of  the  colonel  with  his 
blue  eyes  and  light  hair,  that  they  had  met  before. 
Not  only  that  they  had  met,  but  that  they  must  have 
been  united  by  some  cord  of  great  durability.  There 
were  two  exclamations  like  pistol  shots. 

"Big  brother!"  from  Jakey. 

"Little  brother!"  from  the  colonel. 

Colonel  Mark  Maynard  strode  up  to  the  boy,  took 
him  in  his  arms,  and  Jakey  might  have  as  well  been  in 
the  embrace  of  a  bear  for  a  time,  while  not  a  word  was 
spoken.  Then  there  was  a  fusillade  of  questions  and 
answers,  after  which  the  colonel  took  Jakey  into  his 
tent  and  sat  him  on  his  own  camp  cot.  Jakey  lost  no 
time  in  giving  a  brief  account  of  his  trip  from  school, 
how  he  had  slept  at  the  guerrilla's  house,  and  how  his 
father  had  heard  of  the  evacuation  of  Tullahoma. 

The  colonel,  throwing  open  the  tent  flap  and  seeing 
his  chief  of  staff  outside,  called  him  in. 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  5  9 

"Captain,"  he  said,  "ride  over  to  corps  headquar- 
ters, and  say  that  a  boy  has  just  come  in,  who  is  sent 
by  his  father  to  say  that  he  slept  last  night  at  the 
house  of  a  guerrilla,  who  told  his  wife,  not  knowing 
that  he  was  overheard,  that  they  are  getting  out  of 
Tullahoma.  Say  that  the  information  is  perfectly 
reliable,  as  it  has  been  brought  by  a  Union  boy  who 
went  with  me  on  my  most  important  mission  when  I 
was  a  scout,  and  rendered  me,  on  that  occasion,  the 
most  valuable  service  a  human  being  can  render  an- 
other. Ride  at  once.  Never  mind  the  division  com- 
mander. There's  no  time  to  spare  for  army  etiquette. 
Go." 

The  captain  saluted,  and  without  waiting  for  his  own 
horse  to  be  saddled,  mounted  the  horse  of  an  orderly 
anJ  dashed  away. 


VI. 

TULLAHOMA, 

COLONEL  MAYNARD  was  ordered  to  push  for- 
ward down  the  road  from  Manchester  toward  Tul- 
lahoma  in  order  to  test  the  truth  of  Jakey  Slack's 
information.  Jakey  begged  permission  to  go  with 
him,  but  the  colonel  told  him  that  he  liad  better  go 
back  to  his  father  and  sister.  Jakey  argued  that  he 
could  as  well  return  from  Tullahoma,  if  they  should 
reach  it,  and  if  not,  from  any  point  where  they  might 
halt.  The  colonel  at  last  consented,  and  as  they  rode 
off  he  remarked  to  the  members  of  his  staff,  using  the 
conventional  military  phrase  for  announcing  a  staff 
officer  in  orders,  "Gentlemen,  this  is  Jacob  Slack, 
volunteer   aid-de-camp    to    the    colonel    commanding 

the  th  cavalry  brigade,  and  will  be  obeyed  and 

respected  as  such."  The  announcement,  couched  in 
these  terms,  so  delighted  Jakey  that  he  came  well- 
nigh  losing  his  balance  and  falling  off  old  Tom's  back 
and  getting  himself  trampled  on  by  the  rest  of  the 
staff.  But  after  the  first  flurry  he  made  a  most  effi- 
cient aid-de-camp;  that  is,  if  riding  close  beside  the 
colonel,  and  being  always  ready  for  an  order  which 
was  never  given,  constitutes  a  good  staff  officer. 
And  now  began  a  ride  in  which  the  advancing  force 
60 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  6 1 

was  spurred  on  by  a  curiosity  to  know  what  they  were 
going  to  find.  Would  the  place  be  evacuated,  or 
would  they  suddenly  be  checked  by  a  volley  in  their 
faces  from  a  skirmish  line.  Starting  at  a  trot,  and 
finding  no  obstacle  in  the  earlier  part  of  the  distance, 
they  soon  broke  into  a  brisk  canter.  Several  miles 
were  passed  without  a  sign  of  an  enemy.  Presently 
they  came  to  a  low  lineal  heaping  of  dirt  and  fence 
rails  extending  on  either  side  of  the  road,  thrown 
together  evidently  for  the  protection  of  men  lying 
down  for  firing.  They  had  been  abandoned.  A  sec- 
ond line  of  defense  was  reached  soon  after,  and  then 
a  third.  As  they  drew  on,  these  lines  were  built 
nearer  together  and  grew  more  formidable.  Their 
desertion  of  a  skirmish  line  indicated  that  the  enemy 
had  fallen  back  from  their  main  defenses. 

Emerging  from  a  wood,  the  fortifications  about  the 
town  of  Tullahoma  suddenly  appeared  before  them. 
Though  it  was  plain  now  that  they  were  not  to  be 
defended,  the  advancing  force  half  expected  to  see  a 
cloud  of  smoke  burst  from  them.  But  they  were 
silent  and  impotent,  without  troops  to  man  them. 

Dashing  from  the  edge  of  the  wood  Colonel  May- 
nard,  followed  by  Jakey  and  the  rest  of  the  staff,  rode 
over  the  intervening  space  and  in  a  few  minutes  were 
climbing  the  slanting  sides  of  the  earthworks.  A 
point  had  been  gained  which,  without  the  previous 
maneuvers,  would  have  cost  thousands  of  lives.  Even 
Jakey  Slack,  who  can  hardly  be  called  an  educated 
soldier,  experienced  a  certain  comfort  on  riding  unop- 
posed over  breastworks  so  formidable.     Once  within 


62  CHICKAMAUGA. 

them  he  got  off  his  horse,  and  seeing  a  big  siege  gun 
from  under  which  the  carriage  had  been  burned, 
climbed  onto  it  and  sat  straddle,  waving  his  hat  and 
cheering  as  vociferously  as  if  the  victory  had  been 
exclusively  due  to  his  own  genius. 

His  hilarity  was  suddenly  quenched  by  the  colonel, 
who,  riding  up  to  him,  told  him  that  the  brigade  was 
ordered  forward  in  pursuit  of  the  retreating  enemy, 
and  that  he  must  go  back  to  his  father  and  sister. 
Jakey  begged  hard  to  go  on,  but  his  appeal  was  un- 
availing. His  brief  dignity  must  be  resigned ;  from 
aid-de-camp  on  the  staff  of  the  colonel  commanding 

the th  brigade  "to  be  obeyed  and  respected  as 

such,"  he  must  be  reduced  to  the  level  of  a  small  boy. 

The  colonel  gave  him  a  hug  before  parting,  and  told 
him  that  he  would  send  a  trooper  with  him  to  see  him 
safely  on  his  way.  Had  Jakey  been  a  soldier,  his 
action  on  this  occasion  would  have  been  considered 
by  any  court-martial  rank  mutiny. 

"D'y  think  I  hain't  nobody  nohow?  Didn't  I  go 
with  y'  last  summer  ter  Chattanooga  when  y'  war 
nuthen  but  a  scout?  'N  didn't  I  stay  in  jail  with  y'? 
And  now  yer  talken  'bout  senden  a  sojer  with  me  fo' 
a  nurse." 

"All  right,  Jakey;  go  it  alone,  if  you  prefer  it." 

The  colonel  rode  away  and  Jakey,  shorn  of  the 
plumage  he  had  worn  so  becomingly  for  a  whole  half 
day,  proceeded  on  his  return  journey.  He  first  in- 
quired the  most  direct  route  to  Hillsboro,  and  having 
been  directed  to  it  he  set  off  at  a  brisk  trot.  He  had 
eaten  nothing  since  early  morning  and  was  ravenously 


CHICKAMAUGA.  63 

hungry.  At  a  farmhouse  by  the  way  he  secured  a 
meal  for  himself  and  a  good  feed  for  Tom.  Then  the 
old  woman  who  furnished  it  gave  him  a  kiss  and 
started  him  again  on  his  journey. 

Jakey  had  not  gone  far  before  he  came  to  a  road 
connecting  Hillsboro  with  the  MacMinnville  branch 
of  the  railroad  at  a  place  called  Concord.  The  road 
on  which  he  was  traveling  forked  into  the  other  at  an 
acute  angle,  the  two  running  nearly  parallel  tor  a 
short  distance.  Looking  ahead  toward  the  fork,  he 
saw  a  rig  which  struck  him  at  once  as  being  astonish- 
ingly familiar.  It  was  none  other  than  the  rawboned 
horse  and  paint-bereft  buggy  he  had  seen  several 
times  before.  As  it  drew  near  Jakey  could  see  some- 
one in  the  buggy,  and  he  was  not  long  in  recognizing 
the  peculiar  dress  of  Miss  Betsy  Baggs. 

"Hello,  Miss  Baggs,  whar  y'  goen  at?"  he  called. 

Never  a  word  spoke  Miss  Baggs.  She  sat  bolt  up- 
right in  her  buggy,  regarding  the  boy  fixedly  as 
"Bobby  Lee"  triangulated  onward.  As  she  passed 
she  turned  her  head  slowly,  keeping  her  spectacles  on 
Jakey  with  an  unearthly  stare.  There  is  something 
superstitious  in  all  human  beings,  and  epecially  in 
boys.  Something  like  a  shiver  ran  down  Jakey's  back 
at  sight  of  this  singular  person,  who  knew  him  per- 
fectly, yet  who  passed  him,  her  head  turning  mechan- 
ically, without  uttering  a  word.  For  a  moment  he  was 
tempted  to  believe  that  Miss  Baggs  had  perished,  and 
this  was  her  ghost  going  to  seek  rest  in  some  other 
land  than  war-scarred  Tennessee.  But  this  feeling 
was  momentary.     Throwing  it  off  he  shouted: 


64  CHICK  AM  A  UGA. 

"Shell  I  give  yer  love  t'  Rats  when  I  see  him?" 

If  Miss  Baggs  was  trying  to  make  the  boy  believe 
he  was  mistaken,  or  that  he  saw  her  disembodied 
spirit,  her  effort  failed  signally  at  this  point.  A  peal  of 
suppressed  laughter  came  back  on  the  breeze  to  Jakey, 
Looking  after  her  he  saw  the  back  of  the  buggy,  from 
which  streamed  the  tatters  of  the  top,  and  under  it 
"Bob  Lee's"  four  legs  mingled  in  inextricable  confu- 
sion, doing  some  of  their  best  work. 

"She'uns  hain't  bent  on  no  good,"  said  Jakey  to 
himself  as  he  gave  Tom  a  jog,  "reckon  she's  up  ter 
somep'n." 

Jakey  rode  on  musing  upon  Miss  Baggs.  He  had 
noticed  her  kind  treatment  of  his  sister,  and  as  Jakey 
was  disposed  to  regard  Souri  the  most  important  per- 
son on  earth  after  Colonel  Maynard,  Miss  Baggs  had 
thus  found  her  way  into  that  youthful  something  or 
other  which  for  want  of  a  better  name  may  be  called 
Jakey's  heart.  His  remark  was  made  with  great  seri- 
ousness. Jakey  felt  that  it  was  his  duty,  as  a  Union 
sympathizer,  to  put  someone  on  Miss  Baggs's  track. 
"She  mought  be  worken  fo'  the  Confederates,"  he 
mused,  "  'n  then  agin  she  moughtn't."  The  latter 
view  was  most  agreeable  to  him,  because  he  liked  Miss 
Baggs  and  would  grieve  to  see  any  harm  come  to 
her. 

While  he  was  jogging  along  turning  the  matter  over 
in  his  mind,  he  saw  several  horsemen  in  blue  and  yel- 
low come  tearing  down  the  road.  They  reined  in 
when  they  came  up  with  him  and  opened  a  volley  of 
questions. 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  ^5 

"Say,  boy,  did  you  see  a  woman  with  a  striped 
dress  and  goggles  go  by?" 

'"N  a  long-legged  wind-busted  critter?" 

"Yes." 

"  'N  an  ole  rattlin'  buggy?" 

"Yes." 

"What  d'y  want  with  her?" 

"Never  mind  that.     Have  you  seen  her?" 

"Wal,  never  mind  whether  I  have  or  not.  Git  up, 
Tom !  ' ' 

This  brought  the  questioner  to  terms, 

"Are  you  a  Confederate  boy?" 

"Don't  I  live  in  Tennessee?" 

"I  suppose  that  means  you  are  Confederate. 
We've  no  time  to  lose.      The  woman  in  that  buggy  is 

— is "  he  was  conjuring  up  a  story  to  deceive  the 

stupid-looking  boy  before  him  and  get  the  required 
information,  but  he  was  not  good  at  invention. 
Jakey  came  to  the  rescue. 

'  'Wanted  by  you'uns  general  or  colonel  or  somep'n?" 

"Yes." 

"Fo'  ter  keep  her  outen  danger  'coz  she's  like  'nuff 
to  run  inter  a  guerrilla  camp?" 

The  man  looked  wonderingly  at  the  boy,  who  was 
making  a  story  for  him  unasked. 

"Y-e-s,"  he  replied,  uncertain  what  to  say. 

"Wal,  she's  gone  along  thar.  When  y'  git  ter  th' 
fork  'n  th'  road  take  th'  left  fork." 

"All  right.  Thanks,  my  little  man,"  and  the  party 
galloped  away,  to  take  the  wrong  road  on  reaching 
the  fork. 


66  CHK^AMAUGA. 

Jakey  pursued  his  course  meditatively. 

"Reckon  that  warn't  me  done  thet.  T  must  'a' 
ben  some'un  else.  1  air  a  Union  boy,  1  air. 
She'uns's  Confederate.  Like  'nuff  some'un  got 
s'picion  of  her.  Reckon  I  can't  be  Union  ef  I 
helped  her  out.  Wal,  she  likes  Souri  anyway. 
Reckon  she  won't  do  no  harm." 

Notwithstanding  the  view  taken  at  the  close  of 
Jakey's  soliloquy  he  felt  very  much  dissatisfied  with 
himself.  He  rode  on  thoughtfully,  wondering  what 
Colonel  Maynard  would  say  if  he  should  know  what 
he  had  done.  He  soon  met  a  soldier  on  a  lame 
horse.  Jakey  inferred  that  he  belonged  to  the  party 
ahead  but  had  been  obliged  to  drop  out  of  the  chase. 

"Say,  mister,"  called  the  boy,  "what  them'uns 
chasen  thet  woman  in  the  buggy  fo'?" 

"Did  you  pass  her?" 

"Yes." 

"Put  'em  on  the  track?" 

"Reckon." 

"She  tried  to  slip  through  the  lines  on  a  forged 
pass.  The  guard  was  suspicious  and  took  the  pass 
to  headquarters  (after  letting  her  go  through,  like  a 
fool),  when  the  trick  was  discovered." 

"Wal,  reckon  they'll  ketch  her,"  and  Jakey  rode  on. 

Meanwhile  the  father  and  sister  awaited  Jakey's 
reappearance  anxiously.  Both  had  great  confidence 
in  his  ability  to  make  his  way  anywhere,  but  Jakey 
was  pretty  younj;  to  be  riding  about  in  a  strange 
country  in  such  turbulent  times,  and  his  sister,  on 
learning  his  mission  from  her  father,  never  ceased  to 


CHI CKA MA  UGA.  67 

be  troubled  about  him  during  his  absence.  Neither 
Mr.  Slack  nor  Souri  said  anything  to  the  woman  with 
whom  they  lodged  as  to  the  real  cause  of  Jakey's 
absence.  Slack  remarked  at  breakfast  that  he  thought 
he  heard  someone  knocking  during  the  night,  but  was 
very  tired  and  fell  asleep  again  without  paying  any 
attention  to  it.  Of  course  Jakey's  absence  was 
noticed,  and  the  farmer  felt  it  necessary  to  invent 
some  excuse  to  account  for  it. 

"I  don't  know  what  can  hev  become  o'  Jake,"  he 
said.  "Last  night  I  hearn  the  critters  stampen  'n 
stampen  'n  maken  a  fuss,  'n'  I  tole  Jake  ter  go  'n  see 
what  was  th'  matter.     He  didn't  come  back  no  mo'." 

As  the  dusk  of  the  evening  was  coming  on  Tom 
was  seen  far  down  the  street  advancing  at  a  jog  trot, 
and  on  him  Jakey,  bobbing  up  and  down,  his  elbows 
stuck  out  on  each  side,  and  his  little  legs  at  an  obtuse 
angle  with  the  rest  of  his  body.  As  he  approached, 
his  father  scanned  his  face  to  learn  whether  he  had 
succeeded.  Jakey,  unmindful  of  the  important  serv- 
ice he  had  rendered  the  Union  cause  in  carrying  the 
information  he  had  taken,  was  at  the  time  absorbed 
with  his  recent  dignity  as  volunteer  aid-de-camp. 
The  consequence  was  that  his  countenance  shone 
with  a  proud  look  that  convinced  his  father  that  he 
had  not  failed.  Riding  up  to  the  little  porch  in  front 
of  the  house,  Jakey  slid  down  from  Tom's  high  back 
with  as  much  dignity  as  he  could  command  on  de- 
scending from  such  a  height.  The  whole  household, 
including  the  children,  were  there  to  receive  him,  and 
Jakey  was  about  to  give  them  an   account  of  how  he 


6  8  CHICK  A  MA  UGA . 

had  served  on  Colonel  Maynard's  staff  when  he 
caught  his  father's  eye. 

"You,  Jake,"  said  Mr.  Slack,  "didn't  1  send  y' 
out  ter  th'  barn  ter  look  arter  the  critters  last  night,  'n 
now  yer  been  ridin'  all  over,  nobody  knows  whar. 
Whar  y'  ben?" 

"Wal,"  said  Jakey,  taking  his  cue  readily,  "I 
foun'  Tom  loose,  'n  I  follered  him  all  over  the  U'nhed 
States." 

"I'm  glad  y'  got  him,"  replied  the  father  'Go  in 
'n  git  yer  supper," 


VII. 

OLD    FRIENDS    MEET, 

IT  was  the  middle  of  August  before  the  different 
columns  of  the  Army  of  the  Cumberland  began  to 
cross  the  mountains  between  it  and  Chattanooga  in 
pursuit  of  the  Confederates,  who  had  withdrawn  to 
that  place  and  there  intrenched  themselves.  Mean- 
while the  Slack  family  had  arrived  at  their  home,  near 
Jasper,  in  the  Sequatchee  Valley.  Much  to  Souri's 
surprise  everything  about  the  place  looked  uncouth. 
When  she  left  it  a  year  before  it  was  all  she  had  ever 
known.  A  ten  months'  residence  in  the  North,  sur- 
rounded by  every  comfort,  associating  with  the  daugh- 
ters of  refined  people,  had  made  a  great  change  in  her. 
Now  the  furniture  appeared  dilapidated,  the  rag  car- 
pets rough;  indeed  there  was  a  disappointment  about 
"sweet  home"  that  she  had  not  expected.  Neverthe- 
less she  did  not  sit  down  and  repine  over  it.  She  had 
no  means  of  procuring  anything  better,  but  she  found 
that  she  could  do  a  great  deal  of  patching.  With 
considerable  forethought  she  had  brought  some  cheap 
material  of  different  kinds  with  her  from  the  North, 
and  this  she  used  to  the  best  advantage.  She  made 
neat  valances  for  the  beds,  cushions  for  her  mother's 
rocking  chair,  scarfs  for  tlie   bureaus;    in   fact  with 

69 


70  CHICKAMAUCA. 

very    little    she    made    quite    a    revolution    in    the 
house. 

Her  great  anxiety  was  her  brother.  Jakey  had 
attended  well  to  his  studies  while  at  school,  but  his 
teachers  had  found  it  impossible  to  change  his  meth- 
ods of  expressing  himself.  As  soon  as  he  reached 
Tennessee  he  began  to  relapse  into  the  state  of  semi- 
barbarism  in  which  he  had  lived  before  the  coming  of 
his  advantages.  Souri  knew  that  there  was  no  hope 
for  improvement  in  her  father  and  mother.  Instead 
of  troubling  them  when  their  ways  of  acting  and 
speaking  shocked  her,  she  refrained  from  comment, 
but  when  Jakey  dropped  into  his  old  ways  she  tried  hard 
to  check  him.  Besides  she  felt  that  it  was  necessary 
to  keep  a  strict  guard  over  herself,  for  she  had  noticed 
that  when  under  any  excitement,  or  when  her  feelings 
were  deeply  touched,  she  was  apt  to  forget  herself  and 
be  once  more  the  "poor  white"  girl  of  former  days. 

There  was  another  cause  of  solicitude  as  to  Jakey, 
It  must  be  admitted,  notwithstanding  Jakey  s  good 
points  and  a  certain  original  shrewdness  there  was 
about  him,  that  he  never  w^as  the  same  boy  after  his 
few  hours  of  service  on  Colonel  Maynard's  staff.  It 
was  constantly  "When  I  war  Colonel  Maynard's  aid- 
der-camp,"  or  "When  the  colonel  'n  me  rode  into  Tul- 
lyhomy,"  or  "When  I  carried  the  news  of  the  ;Yvacu- 
ation."  Then  he  would  strut  about  with  his  hands  in 
his  pockets,  much  to  his  father's  amusement,  and 
Souri 's  dread  that  he  would  run  away  and  join  the 
Union  army.  But  one  day  when  he  threatened  to  do 
so,  Souri  took  him  to  task  for  it  and  made  him  prom- 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  7 1 

ise  that  he  would  not.  This  ended  her  anxiety,  for 
Jakey  would  as  soon  have  forgotten  his  military  hon- 
ors as  break  a  pledge  to  his  sister. 

The  Army  of  the  Cumberland,  in  three  corps 
d'arrnee  commanded  by  Generals  Thomas,  McCook, 
and  Crittenden,  the  whole  under  General  Rosecrans, 
was  now  advancing  by  every  possible  route  toward 
Chattanooga.  One  of  the  routes  taken  by  the  Union 
army  lay  through  the  Sequatchee  Valley  and  directly 
past  the  Slacks*  little  farm.  One  evening  Souri  wa.^ 
leaning  over  the  gate  thoughtfully,  when  she  saw  sev- 
eral mounted  men  in  blue,  with  yellow  facings,  come 
trotting  down  the  road.  They  were  the  first  blue 
coats  to  appear  of  the  host  that  was  coming.  There 
is  a  certain  jaunty  air,  a  devil-may-care  appearance, 
about  a  trooper  who  becomes  used  to  being  always 
on  horseback.  Each  man  and  horse  seemed  the  same 
animal.  Their  sabers  clanked  in  unison,  and  they 
were  chatting  and  laughing  as  if  they  had  come  to  the 
South  with  only  the  most  peaceful  intentions.  When 
they  reached  the  gate  where  Souri  stood,  one  of  them, 
lifting  his  hat  politely,  asked: 

"Would  ye  mind  me  goen  to  the  well  for  a  little 
water?" 

In  the  brilliant  display  that  was  revealed  by  the 
lifting  of  the  man's  hat  Souri  recognized  a  head  she 
could  never  forget — the  head  of  Corporal  Ratigan. 

"Why,"  she  said,  "ain't  you  Corporal  Ratigan?" 

"I  am,  me  young  lady,  and  if  Oi'm  not  mistaken, 
ye're  one  o'  the  party  that  was  goen  through  the  lines 
one  day  a  few  weeks  ago." 


7  2  CHICK  A  MA  UGA . 

Jakey  at  this  moment  came  around  the  house  in  a 
fashion  at  which  he  had  become  very  expert  at  school. 
This  was  turning  handsprings  sideways  like  a  cart 
wheel.  Seeing  soldiers  he  suddenly  remembered  his 
dignity  as  former  volunteer  aid-de-camp,  and  straight- 
ening Lip,  pulled  his  hat  down  over  the  back  of  his 
head  and  tried  to  look  military.  True,  his  hair  was 
in  his  eyes,  but  his  military  training  had  only  been 
for  one  morning  and  Jakey's  hair  was  always  in  his 
eyes.  Doubtless  it  would  have  required  months  of 
training  from  a  drill  sergeant  to  get  it  to  growing  any 
other  way.  Approaching  the  fence  he  climbed  it,  and 
sat  with  one  leg  on  each  side  of  it. 

"Do  ye  know  me,  me  boy?"   asked  Ratigan. 

"Does  I  know  one  o'  them  signal  lights  on  th' 
mounting?" 

'*0  Jakey,"  sighed  his  sister. 

"Well,  me  lad,"  pursued  the  corporal,  laughing. 
"Who  am  I?" 

"Rats." 

"I  see  ye  have  a  good  memory.  Rats.  It's  quare 
ye  should  have  remembered  that."  And  the  corporal 
chuckled  good-naturedly. 

"Mehheyou  remember  somis'un's  name." 

"And  who  is  that?" 

"Miss  Baggs." 

"Certainly  I  do,"  said  the  corporal,  somewhat 
startled  and  confused. 

"I  sor  her  t'other  day. " 

"Ye  don't  mean  it?" 

"Reckon  I  do." 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  73 

"Where?" 

"She  war  a  trotten  thet  ole  critter  o'  hern,  goen 
No'th  like  shot  from  a  squirrel  gun." 

"Upon  me  word!"  ejaculated  the  corporal,  evi- 
dently much  interested. 

"Reckon  she  war  up  to  somep'n." 

"What  makes  ye  think  so?"  And  Ratigan  changed 
his  position  in  his  saddle  uneasily, 

"Wal.  when  we'uns  met  her " 

"O  Jakey,  please  don't  say  we'uns,"  interrupted 
Souri. 

"Wal,  when  we  met  her  outen  the  reach  o' 
you'uns"  (Souri  gave  a  despairing  look  but  said 
nothing),  "she  talked  peart  'nuff  'n  she  knowed  me 
too,  but  when  she  passed  me  on  th'  road  t'other  day, 
no'th  o'  th'  Union  army,  she  only  stared  at  me  through 
her  goggle  eyes  'n  did'n  say  nothin'  nohow." 

"And  what  do  ye  suppose  that  was  for?" 

"Reckon  she  war  in  a  hurry  'bout  somep'n  'n  didn' 
want  ter  stop  'n  talk  or  nothen." 

"Did  you  speak  to  her?" 

"I  asked  her  ef  I  c'd  give  her  love  to  Rats  when  I 
sor  him." 

Corporal  Ratigan's  Irish  good  nature  triumphed 
over  his  desire  to  reach  down  and  give  the  boy  a  cuff. 
Jakey's  countenance  was  solemn  as  usual,  and  did  not 
break  into  a  smile  in  response  to  the  corporal's  em- 
barrassed laugh.  He  opened  the  gate  and  Ratigan 
rode  into  the  yard,  followed  by  his  troopers.  They 
refreshed  themselves  from  a  gourd  which  hung  in  the 
wellhouse;   then  filling  their  canteens  they  rode  away. 


74  CHICK  AM  A  UGA. 

But  Soiiri  and  Jakey  were  destined  soon  to  meet 
one  who  vviis  of  far  more  consequence^ to  both  than 
Corporal  Ratigan.  The  next  morning,  while  Souri 
was  setting  the  house  to  rights,  she  heard  the  beating 
of  innumerable  horses'  hoofs.  Going  to  the  window 
and  looking  up  the  road,  which  stretched  northward 
for  a  long  distance,  in  full  view  she  saw  a  column  of 
cavalry  approaching.  There  is  something  singular  in 
the  sight  of  a  large  body  of  troops  marching  through  a 
quiet  country  used  only  to  the  plowman,  the  corn 
hoer,  or  the  farmer  lashing  his  ox  team  slowly  along 
the  road.  Through  long  years  of  peace  one  is  used 
only  to  seeing  soldiers  parading  through  the  streets  of 
cities,  with  crowds  to  admire,  and  friends  waving 
handkerchiefs  to  tliem  from  windows.  Such  indeed 
were  the  scenes  through  which  the  Union  troops  dur- 
ing the  Civil  War  passed  at  leaving  for  the  seat  of  war. 
But  once  among  the  broad  Southern  plantations,  in 
the  moss-covered  woods,  or  amid  the  silent  hills,  there 
was  no  one  to  gaze  at  them  except  the  simple  country 
people,  who  had  never  seen  anything  more  gaudy  than 
an  occasional  bright  necktie,  or  bonnet  feathers  adorn- 
ing city  people,  and  then  only  at  rare  intervals.  Sud- 
denly Souri  saw  the  road  alive  with  a  brilliant  caval- 
cade. First  came  a  mounted  ofificer  surrounded  by 
subordinate  officers  and  orderlies.  Then  the  solid 
column,  its  officers  and  non-commissioned  officers 
with  shoulder  straps  and  chevrons,  the  men  sabered 
and  pistoled  and  carbined,  each  man  a  miniature  cit- 
adel in  himself.  Above  the  heads  of  all  waved  a  line 
of  bunting,  from  the  stars  and  stripes  near  the  center 


CHICK  AM  A  UGA.  7S 

of  each  regiment  to  the  more  frequent  guidon ;  the 
staff  of  each  resting  on  the  stirrup  of  the  man  who 
bore  it. 

Before  the  head  of  column  had  reached  the  house 
the  whole  Slack  family  were  standing  in  the  yard 
gaping.  Being  Unionists,  their  faces  were  wreathed 
in  smiles.  These  were  their  own  men,  whom  they 
had  so  long  hoped  for  and  prayed  for  to  shield  them 
from  the  terrorism  of  neighbors  who  differed  with 
them  in  loyalty.  No  handkerchief  was  ever  waved 
from  city  mansion  at  responsive  smiling  troopers  with 
more  zest  than  that  with  which  Souri  waved  to  the 
passing  squadrons.  And  as  for  Jakey,  he  stood  on 
the  fence  and  flinging  his  hat  in  the  air  shouted  him- 
self hoarse. 

Two  regiments  passed,  though  each  seemed  like  an 
army,  for  cavalry  occupies  three  or  four  times  the 
space  of  infantry.  Between  the  second  and  third 
regiments  was  a  gap  of  a  few  hundred  yards.  In  this 
rode  an  officer  especially  noticeable  for  his  youth  and 
manly  beauty,  attended  by  his  staff  and  escort.  On 
approaching  the  Slack  cabin  he  motioned  to  these  to 
go  on;  and  wheeling  his  horse  from  the  road,  unat- 
tended, rode  up  to  the  party  of  lookers-on.  Jakey, 
who  was  standing  on  the  fence,  gave  a  spring  and  was 
caught  in  his  arms. 

"Aha,  little  brother,  we  meet  again." 

But  there  were  others  to  engage  the  speaker's 
attention.  Dropping  the  boy  to  the  ground,  he  dis- 
mounted and  was  soon  warmly  shaking  all  by  the 
hand. 


76  CHICiCAMAUGA. 

"Yer  Mark  Malone,  I  reckon,"  said  Farmer  Slack, 
"though  y'  don't  look  much  like  the  common  sojer  ez 
kem  'long  hyar  a  year  ago  and  changed  yer  uniform 
fo'  our  Henery's  store  clothes." 

"Not  Mark  Malone — that  was  a  fictitious  name — 
but  Mark  Maynard.  No.  I'm  not  a  private  any 
longer;  I  command  this  brigade.  And  it's  a  splen- 
did body  of  men;  I'm  proud  of  it." 

When  Colonel  Maynard  came  to  salute  Souri  there 
was  an  unspeakable  interest,  sympathy,  even  tender- 
ness in  her  expressive  eyes. 

"Why,  Souri,  you're  a  woman;  how  you  have 
improved !" 

A  slight  flush  on  her  cheek  showed  the  pleasure  the 
words  gave  her. 

"Hain't  I  improved?"  asked  Jakey. 

"Improved?  Certainly.  Have  you  conquered 
your  old  habit  of  answering  people  with  questions?" 

"Did  I  lick  Johnny Oh,  yes,"  suddenly  recol- 
lecting himself.     "I  purty  nigh  got  over  thet." 

"So  I  perceive,"  said  the  colonel  smiling.  "You're 
a  perfect  paragon  at  expressing  yourself." 

"Won't  yer  come  in  'n  set  down?"  asked  Mrs. 
Slack. 

"Not  now.  If  we  remain  long  enough  in  this  vicin- 
ity I'll  ride  over  and  make  you  a  call.  I  am  going  to 
meet  my  wife,  whom  I  have  not  seen  for  nearly  a 
year.  I  expect  to  find  her  at  her  mother's  plantation 
near  Chattanooga.  You  remember  how  she  hid  me 
when  my  neck  was  in  a  halter  on  that  very  plantation ; 
how  I  came  North  in   disguise  with  her;   how  I  came 


CHTCTCAMAUGA.  77 

here  one  night  where  I  had  left  my  horse  and  uniform 
and  dashed  away  to  the  Union  lines ;  how  she  fol- 
lowed me  and  we  were  married  by  a  chaplain.  Well, 
I've  never  seen  her  since  a  week  after  our  marriage, 
'Old  Pap'  is  famous  for  not  allowing  women  in  camp, 
and  he  made  no  exception  in  Mrs.  Maynard's  case, 
except  for  one  week's  honeymoon  in  recognition  of 
service  rendered  the  cause." 

"And  yer  wife's  gone  back  outer  the  plantation?" 
said  Mrs.  Slack. 

"She  has.  You  see  in  June  a  recruit  entered  our 
family  quarters  in  the  shape  of  a  ten-pounder  boy.  Be- 
fore that  happened  Mrs.  Maynard  went  through  the 
lines  to  join  her  mother,  Mrs.  Fain.  As  the  youngster 
is  not  old  enough  to  report  to  his  father  since  his  enlist- 
ment, I  suppose  his  father  will  have  to  report  to 
him." 

"Whar  th'  Confederates  gone  ter?"  asked  Slack. 

"To  the  other  side  of  the  Tennessee.  They've 
escaped  us  once  more.  You  see  we  maneuvered  them 
out  of  Tullahoma,  expecting  to  force  them  to  fight  us 
on  open  ground;  but  it  rained  every  day  of  our  ad- 
vance. This  delayed  us  so  (especially  the  artillery) 
that  they  were  enabled  to  give  us  the  slip." 

"I  reckon  Mrs.  Maynard  '11  be  right  glad  to  see 
you,"  remarked  Souri  feelingly. 

"I  shall  certainly  be  right  glad  to  see  her.  And 
that  must  account  for  my  leaving  you  so  soon.  I  owe 
you  all  a  great  deal  in  this  household,  and  now  that 
our  forces  occupy  the  country,  if  you  require  anything 
let  me  know  it.     What  can  I  do  for  you?" 


7  8  CHiCKAMAVGA. 

There  was  silence  for  a  few  moments,  which  was 
broken  by  Mrs.  Slack. 

"Wal,  now,  colonel,  d'ye  know  I  hain't  had  a  cup 
o'  coffee  fo'  night  onter  a  year." 

"You  shall  have  some  as  soon  as  I  can  reach  my 
commissary.     Anything  else?" 

Souri  frowned  even  at  the  request  of  her  mother, 
and  no  one  named  any  other  requirement. 

"Jakey,"  said  the  colonel,  "you  haven't  forgotten 
how,  when  I  went  through  here  a  year  ago,  I  asked  you 
to  go  with  me  on  my  way  to  Chattanooga  to  get  infor- 
mation of  the  movements  of  the  Confederate  army?" 

"Hev  I  forgot  when  I  war  yer  aidercamp?  Oh, 
no,  no — I  hain't  forgot." 

"Well,  I  hadn't  much  inducement  to  offer  you  then, 
unless  the  sharing  of  a  prison  may  be  called  an  induce- 
ment. Now  if  you  will  go  along  I'll  promise  you  the 
best  that  Mrs.  Maynard  can  provide  at  the  plantation. 
Will  you  go?" 

"Will  I?     Course  I  will.     Paw,  can  I  hev  Tom?" 

"Sartin,  boy,"  and  the  farmer  turned  and  went  to 
the  barn. 

"Won't  you  need  a — a  luncheon?"  asked  Souri, 
whose  hesitation  was  an  effort  to  avoid  the  word 
"snack";  the  only  name  she  had  known  for  a  cold 
bite  before  she  went  North  to  school. 

"Oh,  no,"  said  the  colonel.  "We  shall  ride  di- 
rectly to  the  plantation ;  we'll  get  plenty  to  eat  when 
we  arrive." 

Meanwhile  Jakey  had  followed  his  father  to  the 
barn.     Mrs.  Slack  stepped  into  the  house  to  make  up 


CHICK  AM  A  UGA.  79 

a  bundle  for  the  boy.  Maynard  and  Souri  sauntered 
aimlessly  in  the  yard.  Presently  they  found  them- 
selves at  the  wellhouse.  Souri  leaned  over  it  and 
looked  down  into  the  well.  There  was  something  she 
wanted  to  say,  but  found  it  difficult. 

"I  thank  you  very  much  for  what  you've  done  for 
me,"  she  said. 

"Why,  Souri,  what  have  I  done  for  you  compared 
with  what  you  did  for  me?" 

"Didn't  you  find  me  a  'poor  white'  girl  a  year  ago, 
and  haven't  you  sent  me  to  school,  with  Jakey,  and 
helped  me  to  look  into  a  world  that  would  have  been 
always  closed  to  me  except  for  you?" 

"And  wouldn't  my  world  have  been  entirely  closed 
to  me  except  for  you?" 

Souri  was  silent. 

"Souri,  when  you  speak  to  me  of  obligation  you 
remind  me  how  deeply  I  am  obliged  to  you.  When  I 
was  imprisoned  at  Chattanooga,  charged  with  being  a 
spy,  tried,  convicted,  and  about  to  be  hanged,  you 
came  and  effected  my  escape.  Why,  child,  were  it 
not  for  you  my  bones  would  this  minute  be  moldering 
in  the  jail  yard  at  Chattanooga." 

"But  Mrs.  Maynard,  she " 

Souri  paused.  She  was  bending  low  over  the  side 
of  the  wellhouse,  her  face  in  the  palms  of  her  hands, 
her  elbows  resting  on  the  board  beside  the  bucket, 
and  looking  down  as  though  seeking  for  something  in 
the  dark  disk  below. 

"She  completed  what  you  began,"  the  colonel  fin- 
ished for  her. 


8o  CHICK  AM  A  UGA. 

"It  was  more  for  her  to  do.  'Twasn't  noth — any- 
thing for  me.  You'uns — you  was  Union  and  so  was 
I.     She  was  Confederate." 

There  was  a  depth  of  feeling  in  Souri  which  threw 
her  off  her  guard  and  made  it  difficult  for  her  to 
adhere  to  her  training  in  expressing  herself. 

"Souri,  I  am  indebted  to  two  lovely  women  for 
every  breath  I  draw.  You  opened  my  prison  doors. 
She  who  is  my  wife  concealed  me  when  I  was  hunted 
for  my  life.  Let  us  talk  no  more  about  it.  The  very 
mention  of  the  narrowness  of  my  escape  gives  me  a 
choking  sensation  about  the  neck." 

Jakey  came  trotting  out  of  the  barn  on  Tom,  the 
rim  of  his  felt  hat  flapping  u])  and  down  at  each  step. 

The  farmer  followed,  and  Mrs.  Slack  came  out  with 
Jakey's  bundle.  Then  with  a  handshaking  all  round, 
and  a  "God  bless  you,  my  little  girl,"  from  Maynard 
to  Souri,  the  two  started  on  their  way,  not  on  foot,  as 
on  their  former  journey,  but  each  with  a  good  mount. 


VIII. 

JAKEY  ENTERS  THE  ARMY. 

I'^HE  two  wayfarers  started  in  the  direction  the 
cavalry  had  taken,  but  after  going  a  short  dis- 
tance Colonel  Maynard  reined  in  his  horse. 

"Stop  a  bit,  Madge,"  he  said.  "I  want  to  consult 
my  staff  as  to  the  route."  Then  to  his  attendant, 
"  Jakey,  I  think  I  know  a  shorter  route  than  this." 

"So  do  1." 

"The  one  you  and  I  took  when  we  went  to  Chatta- 
nooga before." 

"  To  bring  back  information, ' '  added  Jakey  proudly. 

"We'll  take  it  again.  It's  off  the  main  road  and 
we'll  be  less  liable  to  be  murdered  for  our  boots." 

"Reckon,"  said  Jakey,  wrinkling  his  brow  and 
drawing  down  the  corners  of  his  mouth  with  an  in- 
tensely deliberative  expression,  as  though  the  problem 
having  been  submitted  to  him  it  behooved  him  to 
con'sider  it  carefully. 

They  rode  back  past  the  house,  and  keeping  on  for 
about  a  mile  turned  into  a  byway.  This  they  fol- 
lowed till  they  reached  the  Chattanooga  road. 

Colonel  Maynard  was  in  the  most  exuberant  spirits. 
He  had  turned  over  the  command  of  his  brigade  for  a 
day  or  two  to  the  colonel  next  in  rank  to  himself,  and 

8» 


8  2  CHICK  A  MA  UGA . 

was  on  his  way  to  join  his  young  wife,  from  whom  he 
had  parted  a  week  after  his  marriage.  The  two  acted 
on  his  spirits  like  cliampagne.  He  laughed  without 
having  anything  to  laugh  at;  he  bantered  Jakey,  he 
talked  lovingly  to  his  favorite  horse  Madge.  In 
short,  Colonel  Maynard  appeared  just  what  he  was  in 
years,  little  more  than  a  boy. 

His  services  as  a  scout  had  attracted  the  attention 
of  the  army,  and  had  led  the  general  for  whom  he 
scouted  to  advance  him.  He  had  stepped  from  the 
ranks  to  a  high  position  on  the  staff,  and  soon  after  a 
cavalry  regiment  being  badly  in  need  of  a  lieutenant- 
colonel  (the  colonel  being  inefificient  and  some  junior 
ofificer  being  needed  to  practically  command),  Maynard 
was  placed  in  the  position.  When  the  colonel  of  the 
regiment  was  gotten  rid  of,  Maynard  was  made  colonel. 
Soon  after,  his  command  was  attached  to  a  brigade 
wherein  he  found  himself  the  ranking  regimental 
commander.  This  gave  him  the  command  of  the 
brigade. 

He  entered  upon  his  duties  with  misgivings.  He 
knew  he  was  well  fitted  for  the  duties  of  a  scout,  but 
doubted  if  he  could  command  the  respect  of  three 
thousand  men.  Besides,  he  knew  there  lurked  within 
him  a  spirit  of  antagonism  to  conventional  methods; 
he  feared  impluses  that  might  wreck  not  only  himself, 
but  his  brigade — perhaps  a  whole  army.  True,  there 
was  often  a  kind  of  illegitimate  nobility  about  these 
impulses,  but  it  did  not  render  them  any  the  less  dan- 
gerous. On  hearing  the  news  of  his  appointment  to 
the  command  of  a  brigade,  he  mounted  his  horse  and 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  83 

dashed  over  to  the  headquarters  of  the  general  to 
whom  he  owed  nearly  all  his  advancement,  with  a 
view  to  protesting.  On  arriving  there  he  stammered 
out  reasons  which  had  no  coherence,  and  was  dis- 
missed by  the  general  with  the  remark  that  he  was 
suffering  from  an  attack  of  ill-timed  modesty,  the  gen- 
eral adding:  "You  are  a  born  soldier,  Colonel  May- 
nard,  and  if  the  war  lasts  long  enough  to  give  you  an 
opportunity,  you  will  reach  a  much  higher  command 
than  that  of  a  brigade." 

Once  on  the  road  he  and  Jakey  had  passed  before 
on  their  journey  together  to  Chattanooga,  Maynard 
took  infinite  delight  in  talking  over  their  "campaign," 
as  he  called  the  mission  they  had  pursued.  Jakey 
became  more  puffed  up  with  pride  at  having  been 
with  the  colonel  on  that  occasion  than  having  ridden 
with  him  into  Tullahoma.  Others  had  been  on  his 
staff  on  the  latter  occasion,  but  he,  Jake  Slack  alone, 
had  been  his  boon  companion,  his  confidential  friend, 
on  his  mission  to  Chattanooga.  When  Jakey  consid- 
ered this  double  honor  he  felt  that  he  must  certainly 
have  been  born  in  uniform  and  deprived  of  it  by  some 
malignant  fairy  soon  after  coming  into  the  world. 

The  Chattanooga  road  was  by  no  means  deserted. 
Wagons  under  guard,  couriers,  staff  ofificers  followed 
by  orderlies,  citizens,  negroes,  indeed  all  manner  of 
people  and  vehicles  passing  between  the  different 
corps  of  the  Army  of  the  Cumberland,  met  them  or 
were  passed  by  them  on  the  way. 

"Jakey,"  said  the  colonel,  "I  remember  every 
moment  of  the  time  when  I  came  along  this  road  on 


^4  CHICK  AM  A  UGA. 

my  way  back  from  Chattanooga.     I  was  traveling,  as 
the  dignitaries  say,  incog.'' 

"Yer  mean  by  thet  ef  they'd  a  knowed  what  a 
'portant  person  y'  war  they'd  a  showed  ther  respec' 
by  hangin'  y'." 

"Exactly.  They  would  have  put  several  feet  be- 
tween mine  and  the  waving  summer  grass  below. 
You  have  a  forcible  way  of  expressing  yourself,  but 
considering  that  I'm  the  subject  of  your  remarks,  my 
throat  feels  clearer  at  my  own  more  delicate  drawing 
of  the  picture." 

"Reckon,"  said  Jakey,  with  proper  solemnity,  re- 
membering that  the  topic  was  likely  to  wound  the 
colonel's  feelings. 

"On  that  occasion,  Jakey,  I  did  not  meet  even  a 
mule  without  my  heart  jumping  up  into  my  throat." 

"A  rope  harness  must  a  skeered  y'  outen  yer  skin." 

"Especially  when  I  noticed  the  knots  in  it.  But 
seriously,  Jakey,  that  experience  has  filled  me  with  a 
peculiar  dread.  Now  suppose  some  day  a  Confeder- 
ate spy  should  fall  into  my  hands." 

"Reckon  you'd  hev  lots  o'  fun  hangen  him." 

"You're  far  out  of  the  way  there,  my  little  Solo- 
mon. I  fear  it  would  be  absolutely  impossible  for  me 
to  do  such  a  duty  if  required  of  me." 

"Yer  needn't  take  him,  in  the  first  place." 

"It  might  be  my  duty  to  do  so." 

"Y'  mought  do  like  Tom.  Tom  he  can't  never 
see  me  when  I  want  ter  drive  'im  outen  pastur.  He 
can  see  well  'nuff  when  I  get  a  ear  o'  corn  fo'  'im, 
though," 


CHICK  AM  A  UGA.  85 

"A  good  idea,  Jakey,  With  that  subtle  sophistry 
of  yours  you  could  reason  a  Methodist  minister  into 
dancing  a  hornpipe;  but  I  fear  it's  hardly  sound 
enough  to  enable  one  so  used  to  deceiving  others  as  I 
was  when  a  scout  to  deceive  himself.  I  should  do 
my  best,  should  I  take  a  spy,  to  turn  him  over." 

"  'Sposen  'twar  a  woman." 

"O  Lord,  Jakey,  don't  suppose  any  such  thing. 
I'd  have  to  do  my  duty  in  that  case  just  the  same  as 
if  she  were  a  man.  What  kind  of  a  looking  'go-cart' 
is  that  coming  down  the  road?" 

A  horse  was  visible  in  the  distance,  its  long  neck 
stretched  out  in  front  of  its  body,  coming  toward 
them  at  a  rapid  gait.  The  rattling  of  a  buggy,  which 
it  dragged,  reminded  the  colonel  of  the  band  of  a 
newly  recruited  regiment.  Within  sat  a  woman  in  a 
striped  dress,  sunbonnet,  and  glasses.  In  short,  Jakey 
Slack  at  once  recognized  his  old  friend  Betsy  Baggs. 

"Howdy,  Miss  Baggs,"  he  said  as  she  drove  by. 

Miss  Baggs  was  the  Sphinx  she  had  been  to  Jakey 
when  he  met  her  near  Tullahoma.  She  leveled  her 
spectacles  at  him,  but  had  no  recognition  whatever 
for  him. 

"Who's  your  friend?"  asked  Maynard,  as  the 
buggy  rattled  away. 

"Thet's  Miss  Baggs,"  said  Jakey. 

"And  who's  Miss  Baggs?" 

Jakey  paused  a  long  while  before  replying.  There 
was  a  problem  in  his  mind,  suggested  by  the  meeting 
of  Miss  Baggs  so  soon  after  his  conversation  with  the 
colonel  about  capturing  a   woman  spy.     For  Jakey 


S6  CHICI^AMA  UGA. 

had  a  suspicion  that  Miss  Baggs  was  in  some  way  a 
Confederate  emissary. 

"Wal,"  he  said  at  length,  "I  reckon  she's  sweet  on 
Rats." 

"Jakey,"  said  the  colonel,  "there  is  occasionally  a 
lucidity  about  your  explanations — a  shining  bright- 
ness which  makes  my  eyes  blink.  But  on  the  present 
occasion  I  think  there  is  dust  in  them.  Would  you 
mind  giving  me  a  pointer  as  to  your  meaning?  By 
rats,  do  you  mean  rodents?" 

"What's  rodents?"   asked  Jakey. 

Meanwhile  the  rattling  of  Miss  Baggs's  buggy  was 
dying  away  in  the  distance. 

"Real  rats  are  rodents." 

"Not  them'uns;  Rats  is  a  corporal  in  Major 
Burke's  critter  company." 

"The  corporal's  name  is  quite  appropriate  to  the 
one  you  have  given  his  regiment.  The  woman  in  the 
buggy  looks  as  if  she'd  make  a  fit  vivandiere  to  a 
'critter  company,'  and  a  fit  sweetheart  for  a  corporal 
by  the  name  of  Rats." 

Jakey  made  no  reply  to  this;  he  was  evidently 
weighed  down  with  some  concealed  responsibility. 
The  colonel  tried  to  draw  him  again  into  conversa- 
tion, but  even  "their  campaigns"  were  not  sufificient. 
At  last  the  colonel,  realizing  that  they  were  near  their 
destination  and  his  young  wife,  became  occupied  by 
his  own  thoughts.  Suddenly  he  caught  sight  of  a 
large  frame  house  set  back  from  the  road.  He  gazed 
upon  it  with  a  singular  mingling  of  different  feelings. 
In    it  he  had  first  met   his  wife;   in   it  she  had  con- 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  8  7 

cealed  him  from  men  and  hounds;  and  there  she  was 
now  his  wife  and  the  mother  of  their  babe.  He  gave 
his  horse  the  spurs.     Jakey  suddenly  drew  rein. 

"Colonel!"  he  called. 

"What?" 

"Miss  Baggs." 

"Confound  Miss  Baggs.     What  of  her?" 

"Reckon  thur's  somep'n  wrong  'bout  her." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"Mebbe  she's  a  'Federate  spy." 

"You  little  imp,  why  didn't  you  tell  me  that  be- 
fore?" cried  the  colonel  angrily. 

"Wal,  I  hain't  sartin'  'bout  't  nohow,  'n  I 
thought  yer  moughtn't  like  fo'  to  hold  onter  a 
woman," 

"Jakey,"  said  the  colonel  impressively,  "you  have 
done  very  wrong.  You  should  have  told  me  of  your 
suspicions  at  once.  Remember  I'm  a  colonel  com- 
manding a  brigade  in  the  Union  army." 

The  colonel  sat  irresolute.  What  should  he  do? 
Miss  Baggs  was  now  miles  away.  Jakey  only  sus- 
pected her.  His  young  wife,  whom  he  had  not  seen 
for  nearly  a  year,  was  within  a  stone's  throw  of  him.- 
Suddenly  he  drove  the  spurs  again  into  his  horse's 
flanks  and  rode  on  to  the  gateway  of  the  plantation. 
There  was  no  need  to  open  the  gate,  for  there  was  no 
gate  to  open.  The  two  rode  on  to  the  house  through 
an  avenue  of  trees,  and  Colonel  Maynard  dismounted 
before  his  horse  reached  the  foot  of  the  steps  leading 
up  on  to  the  veranda.  A  young  woman  flew  through 
the  open  front  door  with  all  the  impulse  of  a  summer 


88  CHICKAMAUGA. 

Storm.  In  a  moment  she  and  Colonel  Maynard  were 
closely  locked  in  each  other's  arms, 

"Mark!" 

"Laura!" 

Jakey  sat  on  old  Tom,  viewing  this  collision  very 
much  as  he  would  watch  two  tempest  clouds  meet  in 
the  sky.  "Reckon  them  'uns  hez  got  't  bad,"  he 
remarked  sotto  voce,  and  with  a  solemnity  that  was 
intended  to  be  reverential. 

There  was  rejoicing  at  the  Fain  plantation  at  the 
sudden  appearance  of  Colonel  Maynard.  All  remem- 
bered the  circumstances  attending  the  brief  stay  he 
had  made  there  the  summer  before,  and  were  anxious 
to  see  the  man  who  had  left  them  a  private,  hunted  for 
his  life,  to  return  a  colonel  in  the  Union  army.  As 
soon  as  the  news  of  his  arrival  reached  the  negroes 
they  came  from  the  cabins  in  rear  and  surrounded 
the  house,  peering  in  at  every  window,  or  waiting  at 
the  doorways  to  get  a  view  of  their  old  acquaintance. 
Being  informed  of  their  desire,  Colonel  Maynard 
stepped  out  onto  the  veranda  and  spoke  a  few  words 
to  them,  thanking  them  for  their  devotion  to  the 
family  of  which  his  wife  was  a  member,  and  telling 
them  that  a  sympathy  with  the  Union  cause  was  not 
necessarily  incompatible  with  such  devotion. 

But  the  happiest  moment  of  the  welcoming  was 
when  the  young  wife  took  her  husband  by  the  hand, 
and  both  impatiently  mounted  the  staircase  to  a  cham- 
ber in  which  there  was  a  cradle.  Drawing  near  it 
Laura  Maynard  drew  its  canopy  aside,  and  there  was 
the  round  face  of  a  boy  two  or  three  months  old. 
He  opened  his  eyes  at  the  moment  and  stared  won' 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  89 

deringly  in  the  face  of  the  man  bending  over  him ; 
his  mterest  being  largely  enhanced  by  the  two  rows 
of  brass  buttons  glittering  on  his  father's  breast. 
The  face  of  the  colonel  was  pressed  upon  the  soft 
round  cheek  of  the  child,  whose  little  fingers  were  at 
once  clutched  in  the  tawny  beard. 

"I've  come  to  report  for  duty,  my  son,  and  I  don't 
expect  to  be  relieved  so  long  as  you  live;  but  for  the 
present  I  fear  you  will  have  to  be  content  with  the 
services  of  your  mother.  There;  one  more  kiss  in 
lieu  of  salute." 

The  kiss  was  followed  by  a  dozen  or  so  more  before 
the  colonel  could  tear  himself  from  the  canopied 
cradle.  Then  husband  and  wife  fell  to  reminiscences 
of  their  hurried  meeting  and  courtship  in  that  very 
house. 

Colonel  Maynard's  brigade  went  into  camp  on  the 
river  bank,  some  five  or  six  miles  from  the  plantation. 
The  colonel  insisted  on  having  Jakey  Slack  with  him 
permanently,  and  sent  him  home  to  ask  his  father's 
permission ;  Jakey  at  the  same  time  bearing  an  invita- 
tion to  his  sister  to  visit  Mrs.  Maynard,  reinforced  by 
a  special  request  from  the  colonel  that  it  be  accepted. 
Jakey  succeeded  in  obtaining  the  desired  permission, 
and  after  much  hesitation  Souri  decided  to  accept. 
Jakey  entered  the  army  as  drummer  boy,  but  was  not 
called  upon  to  flourish  the  sticks.  He  was  at  once 
detailed  for  duty  at  brigade  headquarters  as  clerk  in 
the  assistant  adjutant  general's  department,  as  a  con- 
venient way  of  making  him  confidential  factotum  to 
the  colonel  commanding.  Upon  getting  on  the  blue 
and  brass  of  a  Union  soldier  Jakey  was  very  proud  of 


90  CHICK  A  MA  UGA . 

himself,  and  when  placed  in  close  confidential  rela- 
tionship with  the  commander  of  a  brigade,  he  nearly 
burst  with  the  emotions  generated  by  the  dignity  of 
his  position.  He  was  of  great  use  to  the  colonel,  who 
at  once  appointed  him  dispatch  bearer  between  him- 
self and  Mrs.  Maynard.  The  domestic  nearness  of 
this  office  only  rendered  the  boy  more  consequential. 
He  snubbed  not  only  the  orderlies  attached  to  the 
headquarters  of  the  brigade,  but  would  occasionally 
approach  disrespect  toward  the  officers  of  the  staff. 
As  this  was  largely  their  fault  (for  they  were  contin- 
ually trying  to  amuse  themselves  at  Jakey's  expense), 
they  bore  it  good-naturedly. 

"Why  don't  you  carry  that  note  like  any  other 
messenger,"  said  an  aid  to  him  one  day,  "in  your 
belt?" 

"Coz  I  haint  like  any  other  messenger,"  retorted 
Jakey.  "D'y*  reckon  a  man  what  carries  the  colo- 
nel's private  corrensponden  air  a  common  orderly?" 

As  there  was  no  gainsaying  this  argument,  without  a 
seeming  detriment  of  the  personal  dignity  of  the 
brigade  commander,  Jakey  held  the  field. 


IX. 

CIPHER   DISPATCHES. 

IT  was  about  a  week  after  the  arrival  of  Colonei 
Maynard  at  the  Fain  plantation.  He  had  returned 
to  his  headquarters.  Laura  was  sitting  at  work  on 
some  part  of  the  "recruit's"  uniform,  while  the  rain 
from  a  September  storm  beat  against  the  window- 
panes.  Souri  was  with  her,  and  as  Colonel  Maynard 
was  expecting  orders  to  cross  the  river  with  his  bri- 
gade, the  two  had  secured  Souri's  promise  to  remain 
at  the  plantation  till  the  close  of  the  campaign  which 
was  about  to  open.  Souri  was  upstairs  administering 
to  the  wants  of  the  younger  Maynard,  to  whom  she 
was  devoted.  He  dropped  to  sleep,  and  leaving  the 
chamber  on  tiptoe  she  descended  to  the  sitting-room. 
As  she  entered  she  glanced  out  of  the  window. 

"Good  gracious!     If  there  isn't  Miss  Baggs!" 

They  saw  through  the  rain  a  horse  and  buggy  mak- 
ing a  rapid  turn  through  the  gateway. 

"Who's  Miss  Baggs?"  asked  Laura  quickly. 

"I  met  her  when  coming  from  the  North.  She  got 
through  the  Union  lines  by  playing  the  part  of  a 
country  girl.  I  met  her  again,  on  this  side,  and  she 
was  a  lady.     She's  coming  up  to  the  veranda." 

"Bobby  Lee"  came  up  the  driveway  at  such  a 
rapid  gait  as  to  astonish  the  two  women  looking  out 
of  the  window,     The  horse  had  scarcely  stopped  in 


9  2  CHICK  A  MA  UGA . 

front  of  the  house,  when  Miss  Baggs,  throwing  down 
the  reins,  rushed  up  the  steps  and  knocked  loudly  at 
the  door. 

"Go  and  see  what  she  wants,  Souri.  You've  met 
her  before." 

Souri  went  quickly  to  the  door.  When  she  opened 
it  and  Miss  Baggs  saw  the  girl  she  had  met  betvveen 
the  lines,  for  a  moment  her  countenance  brightened. 
Then  suddenly  her  expression  changed  on  remember- 
ing that  Souri  was  a  Union  girl. 

"I've  no  time  to  explain  anything.  Call  someone, 
quick,  to  drive  my  buggy  to  the  barn  ;   and  hide  me." 

Now  Souri  knew  well  enough  that  Miss  Baggs  was 
working  in  the  cause  of  the  Confederacy.  But  she 
saw  a  woman  in  trouble,  and  this  in  her  eyes  obscured 
all  else.  She  ushered  Miss  Baggs  into  the  room  where 
Laura  sat. 

"This  girl  wishes  to  rest  with  us  a  while.  I'm 
going  to  take  her  horse  to  the  barn." 

Without  waiting  for  a  reply  she  went  out  and,  jump- 
ing into  the  buggy,  drove  it  around  to  the  barn. 
There  she  directed  Uncle  Daniel,  who  ruled  the 
stables  of  the  plantation,  to  put  both  horse  and  buggy 
inside  and  shut  the  doors.  Having  seen  this  attended 
to  she  went  back  to  the  house. 

Meanwhile  Miss  Baggs  stood  face  to  face  with 
Laura  Maynard. 

"This  is  a  Confederate  household,  I  believe,"  said 
the  fugitive. 

"It  is." 

"Thank  God!  you  are  one  of  ours." 

"No." 


CHICKAMAUGA.  93 

"What,  Federal?"  she  turned  pale. 

"No." 

"Then,  for  Heaven's  sake,  tell  me  what  you  are." 

"I  am  a  Confederate  married  to  a  Union  officer." 

There  were  quick  successive  flashes  of  hope  and 
fear  on  Miss  Baggs'  countenance. 

"And  you  will  not  give  me  up?" 

"Give  you  up?     What  do  you  mean?" 

"I  am  in  the  Confederate  secret  service.  I  have 
just  been  recognized  by  a  Union  soldier — a  cavalry- 
man. He  was  not  mounted,  while  I  was  in  my 
buggy.  I  heard  him  cry  halt.  I  gave  my  horse  the 
whip,  and  before  the  man  could  mount  I  was  away, 
and  soon  turned  behind  a  wood.  There  is  a  fork  in 
the  road.  I  took  the  left  road,  leading  here.  He 
must  have  taken  the  other,  which  leads  nowhere.  He 
will  discover  his  mistake,  turn  back,  and  take  the 
right  road.  This  is  the  first  house  he  will  pass,  and 
he  will  surely  come  in  to  ask  if  you  have  seen  me." 

"Well?" 

"You  will  not  betray  me?" 

Laura  thought  of  the  coming  of  her  husband  one  night 
months  ago,  flying,  as  this  woman  was  flying,  for  his  life. 

"No,  rest  easy  on  that  score.  I  will  do  all  I  can 
for  you." 

There  was  but  little  time  for  action,  for  the  words 
were  scarcely  spoken  before  a  cavalryman  dashed  past 
on  the  road.  He  was  throwing  mud  and  water  behind 
him,  his  boots  heavy  with  moist  Tennessee  clay. 
Noticing  the  house,  as  Miss  Baggs  predicted,  he  drew 
rein  and  entered  the  gateway,  Riding  up  to  the 
veranda  he  shouted : 


94  CHICK  A  MA  UGA . 

"Hello,  there!" 

"Get  in  there,  quick,"  said  Laura,  pushing  the 
hunted  woman  into  a  closet.  Then  going  out  onto 
the  veranda,  she  sternly  demanded  of  the  man  what 
he  wanted. 

"Did  you  see  a  woman  go  by  here  just  now  in  an 
old  farm  buggy?" 

"No  such  person  has  passed." 

"Sure?" 

"Sure." 

"Are  you  people  here  Union  or  Confederate?" 

"Both." 

"You  must  excuse  me,  ma'am,  but  I  think  I'll  look 
about  for  myself  a  bit." 

"You  will  do  no  such  thing." 

"Why  not?" 

"Because  this  house  is  protected  by  a  safeguard." 

"That  doesn't  include  rebel  emissaries.  I  shall 
make  a  search." 

"If  you  do  you  will  regret  it." 

"Why?" 

"I  shall  report  you  to  Colonel  Maynard,  command- 
ing the th  Brigade." 

"You  have  some  influence  with  the  colonel,  I  sup- 
pose," said  the  soldier,  puzzled. 

"I  should  have;   I'm  his  wife." 

"The  devil  you  are,"  in  an  undertone.  Then 
aloud:  "Well,  ma'am,  if  you  are  Colonel  Maynard's 
wife  that  ends  it.  I  don't  see  how  a  Union  colonel's 
wife  can  give  aid  and  comfort  to  a  rebel  telegraph 
worker,  for  that's  what  the  woman  is,"  And  lifting 
his  hat  he  rode  away. 


CHICK  A  MA  VGA .  95 

Returning  to  the  parlor  Laura  found  Souri  there, 
just  from  the  barn.  The  closet  door  was  opened, 
and  Miss  Baggs  stepped  out. 

"Is  he  gone?" 

"Yes." 

Taking  Laura's  hand  Miss  Baggs  covered  it  with 
kisses,  then  turning  to  Souri,  she  threw  her  arms 
about  her  neck. 

"One  of  you,"  she  said,  presently  withdrawing 
from  the  embrace,  "has  risked  compromising  a  hus- 
band, while  the  other  has  acted  against  the  interests 
of  her  cause,  to  protect  me.  Your  individual  sym- 
pathy has  overridden  your  sense  of  a  more  important 
obligation.  I  wish  I  could  be  like  you,  but  I  can't. 
My  whole  being  has  become  absorbed  in  my  country, 
I  see  only  pictures  of  the  South's  desolation.  They 
have  dried  the  springs  of  my  heart  for  any  one  human 
being.  I  am  so  steeled  against  anything  that  would 
weaken  my  purpose  to  serve  the  whole,  that  I  would 
sacrifice  my  own  brother,  sister,  lover,  if  I  had  one, 
to  my  cause,  if  necessary.  It  is  war  that  has  reduced 
me  to  this;  war,  terrible  war,  striking  down  our 
brothers  by  thousands;  war,  covering  our  land  with 
smoking  ruins;  war,  frightful,  fiendish  war,  seeking 
to  reduce  us  to  the  level  of  our  own  servants.  War 
has  hardened  my  heart  and  made  me  not  a  woman, 
but — sometimes  I  think,  a  fiend." 

While  delivering  herself  of  these  words  a  cold, 
harsh  look  gradually  came  over  her  handsome  fea- 
tures, till  she  came  to  the  last  words.  They  were 
spoken  with  inexpressible  melancholy.  Then  there 
was  a  sudden  transition  to  a  look  of  kindliness,  which 


g6  CHICKAMA  VGA. 

coming  after  the  other,  was  like  the  first  warm  rays  of 
sunlight  bursting  through  storm  clouds. 

Mrs.  Fain  came  into  the  room,  and  seeing  a  stran- 
ger drew  back. 

"Mamma,"  said  Laura,  "this  lady  comes  to  us 
much  as  Mark  once  came  from  the  other  side.  She  is 
chased  for  her  life." 

"A  Confederate?"   asked  Mrs.  Fain. 

"A  Confederate,  heart  and  hand,  body  and  soul," 
exclaimed  Miss  Baggs. 

"One  sympathizing  with  our  cause  is  welcome 
here.  Unfortunately  my  family  is  broken  by  diverse 
sympathies.  My  husband  is  exiled  on  account  of  his 
sympathies  with  the  Federal  cause.  My  son  is  fighting 
for  the  Confederacy.  My  daughter  here  is  the  wife 
of  a  Federal  officer.  My  own  sympathies  are  all  with 
the  South. " 

"Madam,"  replied  the  guest,  "for  the  sake  of  the 
South,  were  it  necessary,  I  might  stay  here  long 
enough  to  endanger  your  daughter's  happiness,  but 
not  for  my  own.  Fortunately  it  is  not  necessary. 
Early  to-morrow  I  must  be  miles  from  here.  I  shall 
go  at  midnight." 

"Let  your  departure  rest  with  yourself.  You  are 
welcome  as  long  as  you  choose  to  stay." 

"And  liow,"  said  Laura,  "if  you  will  come  with 
me  I  will  get  you  some  dry  clothing." 

"I  will;  but  first  let  me  know  to  whom  I  am  in- 
debted for  all  this  kindness.  The  family  name 
is ?" 

' '  Fain . ' ' 

Miss  Baggs  controlled  an  ejaculation  of  surprise. 


CHICK  AM  A  UGA.  97 

"Fain?" 

"Fain." 

"And  you  are  Laura  Fain?" 

"I  was.  I  am  now  Laura  Maynard.  You  seem  to 
at  least  have  heard  of  me." 

"I  have  heard  of  you.  I  am  a  Virginian.  You 
once  visited  in  Virginia.  I  was  then  in  Italy  study- 
ing art. " 

"And  you  are ?" 

There  was  a  brief  silence  before  the  guest  replied. 
She  seemed  deliberating  whether  to  make  herself 
known  or  not. 

"Betsy  Baggs,"  she  said  at  last,  and  it  wns  evident 
that  if  she  had  another  name  she  would  not  reveal  it. 

Supper  was  announced,  after  which  Miss  Baggs 
asked  to  be  shown  to  a  room  where  she  could  rest. 
A  servant  was  summoned,  who  led  her  to  the  guest 
chamber,  and  setting  the  lamp  on  a  table  left  her  to 
herself. 

When  the  servant  disappeared,  Miss  Baggs  turned 
the  key  in  the  lock  and  then  carefully  examined  the 
walls,  with  a  view  to  discovering  if  there  were  open- 
ings through  which  any  eye  could  peer  into  the  room. 
Her  narrow  escape,  the  last  of  a  number  of  such 
episodes,  had  partly  unnerved  her,  and  she  sat  down 
in  a  chair  to  rest,  languidly  closing  her  eyes.  But 
not  for  long.  Rising,  she  drew  from  the  pocket  of 
her  dress  (everyone  knows  that  there  is  no  better 
place  of  concealment  than  a  woman's  pocket)  a  small 
bundle  of  papers.  Spreading  them  out  on  the  table 
she  drew  her  chair  near  it,  and  after  once  more  cast- 
ing her  eye  about  the  room  began  to  study  them. 


9^  CmCJtAMAUGA. 

Miss  Baggs  had  been  endeavoring  to  secure  the 
information  required  as  to  the  methods  of  the  general 
commanding  the  Army  of  the  Cumberland  in  follow- 
ing the  retreating  Confederates,  ever  since  the  request 
had  been  made  of  her  in  June  previous.  Here  it  was 
September,  and  she  had  effected  nothing.  True,  she 
had  taken  a  number  of  dispatches  in  cipher  from  the 
wires,  but  they  were  very  long,  and  the  longer  the 
message  the  more  difficult  she  had  found  them  to 
decipher.  Within  a  few  days  she  had  intercepted 
two  very  short  ones.  Taking  them  from  those  before 
her  she  began  to  study  one  consisting  of  only  a  few  lines. 

It  read  as  follows: 

Washington,  D.  C,  August  5,  '63. 
Banks  here   army   the  Benjamin   cat    to   for   your 
report  shinney   daily  are  advance  the  cart  orders  of 
peremptory  applause. 

Here  is  the  other;   a  little  longer: 

Washington,  D.  C,  September  3,  '63. 
Congress  long  with  as  advise  applause  marble  your 
possible  your  ago  to  party  was  connect  soon  to  move- 
ments spot  his  ordered  as  to  Burton  pin  of  and  left 
ordered  Benjamin. 

Taking  up  the  dispatch  she  had  intercepted  when 
the  Army  of  the  Cumberland  began  to  advance,  and 
some  papers  showing  that  she  had  been  trying  to 
decipher  it,  she  began  to  look  them  over.  This  is  the 
dispatch: 

MURFREESBORO,   JunC  28,    '6^. 

Volunteers  Garfield  with  circling  between  you  pos- 
session turn  an  he  cob  Bumble  at  to  get  that  possible 
by  move  Benjamin   pony  chief  rapidity  around  that 


CHICK AMA  UGA.  99 

put  of  the  hours  ready  shingle  to  notice  enemy's  Tul- 
lahoma  your  point  the  by  of  poliwog  of  plateau  Nig- 
gard if  desire  and  hope  forward  to  haha  move  me 
right  I  command  and  mountain  order  staff. 

Miss  Baggs  had  had  this  dispatch  by  her  since  the 
latter  part  of  the  preceding  June,  and  had  puzzled 
over  it  for  many  an  hour.  She  had  never  succeeded 
in  finding  a  key,  but  had  at  last  drawn  something  of 
its  meaning  from  the  jurable  of  words.  After  much 
study  she  assumed  that  the  words,  when  laid  down  in 
their  proper  order,  would  give  the  proper  meaning. 
But  there  were  certain  words,  which  either  did  not 
mean  anything,  or  stood  perhaps  for  some  place  or 
general.  She  began  by  taking  out  a  number  of 
such  words  as  "poliwog,"  "haha,"  "shingle"  and 
"pony."  The  di3patch  was  doubtless  from  Rose- 
crans,  as  the  word  Garfield  (his  chief  of  staff)  ap- 
peared, and  the  words  "chief  of  staff"  were  scattered 
through  it.  Therefore  either  Benjamin,  or  Bumble, 
or  Niggard,  meant  Rosecrans.  Subsequent  dispatches 
which  fell  into  her  hands  had  convinced  her  that 
Rosecrans  was  designated  as  Benjamin.  Then  she 
began  to  try  to  fit  words  together  in  this  wise: 

Your  command 

between  Tullahoma  and  Niggard 
get  possession 
enemy's  right 

Circling  around  the  mountain  plateau 
I  desire  that  you  get  possession  if  possible 
a  point  between  Tullahoma  and  Niggard 
Move  with  rapidity 

By  order  of  Benjamin  (Rosecrans)  Garfield  chief 
of  staff. 


Joo  chicicamaUgA. 

Other  groupings  gave  her  better  results,  till  she 
obtained  the  following: 

To  Bumble  (probably  a  cavalry  general  on  the  left 
flank):  Be  ready  to  move  at  an  hour's  notice.  I  desire 
that  you  turn  the  enemy's  right.  Move  your  com- 
mand, if  possible,  by  circling  around  the  mountain 
plateau.  Get  possession  of  a  point  between  Tulla- 
homa  and  Niggard  (probably  some  point  in  rear  of  the 
Southern  army)  with  rapidity.  By  order  of  Rose- 
crans,  Garfield,  chief  of  staff. 

The  deciphering,  so  far  as  it  went,  was  of  no  avail 
since  it  did  not  come  in  time,  but  it  helped  her  with 
the  shorter  and  easier  dispatches,  which  she  now 
attacked.     She  began  with  this  one: 

Banks  here  army  the  Benjamin  cat  to  for  your 
report  shinney  daily  are  advance  the  cart  orders  of 
peremptory  apphiuse. 

Miss  Baggs  had  learned  that  a  proper  name  pre- 
ceded all  these  cipher  dispatches;  possibly  having 
something  to  do  with  the  key.  At  any  rate,  she 
tlirew  out  the  iir«i.  word  (Banks)  and  the  words 
"cat,"  "shinney,"  and  "cart"  as  check  words.  "Ben- 
jamin," she  assumed,  meant  Rosecrans.  Applause 
must  be  the  signature  of  the  sender;  and  as  the  dis- 
patch was  from  Washington,  it  was  probably  either 
Lincoln,  Stanton,  or  Halleck.  The  word  "to"  taken 
with  "Benjamin"  must  mean  "To  Rosecrans"  and 
"peremptory"  and  "orders"  evidently  must  go 
together.  The  word  "advance"  doubtless  explained 
the  two   other  words.     This   only  left  "report"  and 


Chick  A  ma  vga  .  i  o  t 

"daily"  as  words  of  importance.  These  combina- 
tions did  not  come  at  once,  but  after  getting  them  she 
inferred  that  Rosecrans  had  peremptory  orders  to 
advance  and  report  daily  to  Washington. 

"I  have  got  something  at  last,"  she  exclaimed,  get- 
ting up  from  her  chair  and  walking  back  and  forth 
excitedly.      "This  is  indeed  important." 

Then  she  took  up  the  second  dispatch: 

Congress  long  with  as  advise  applause  marble  you 
possible  your  ago  to  party  was  connect  soon  to  move- 
ments spot  his  ordered  as  to  Burton  pin  of  and  left 
ordered  Benjamin. 

Again  the  words  "To"  and  "Benjamin"  were  put 
together,  and  the  words  "Congress,"  "marble," 
"party,"  and  "spot"  stricken  out  as  checks.  The 
dispatch  being  longer  than  the  other,  was  more  diffi- 
cult of  interpretation.  It  was  some  time  before  the 
student  was  satisfied  with  her  efforts.  She  inferred 
from  it  that  someone  was  ordered  to  connect  with 
someone  else.  She  knew  that  the  Confederate  gener- 
als feared  that  Burnside  might  connect  with  Rose- 
crans, So  it  was  probable  that  Burton  meant  Burn- 
side,  who  was  at  Knoxville,  and  that  he  had  been 
ordered  to  connect  with  Rosecrans'  left  "as  soon  as 
possible."  The  remaining  words  evidently  meant 
"Burnside  also  directed  to  report  his  movements  to 
you." * 


*  By  the  key,  the  first  word  in  this  dispatch,  Congress,  signifies 
that  the  words  are  to  be  laid  in  five  lines,  there  being  five  columns 
of  words.  Every  sixth  word  is  to  be  omitted  as  a  check  word. 
The  key  directs  to  begin  at  the  top  of  the  fifth  column  and  lay  the 


tOi  CHICK  A  MA  UGA . 

"This  is  no  less  important  than  the  other,**  mused 
Miss  Baggs.  "It  is  clear  from  both  that  Rosecrans 
has  peremptory  orders  to  advance,  and  Burnside  is 
ordered  to  join  him.  I  must  get  this  through  the 
lines  at  once.  From  here  I  must  find  a  way  across 
the  Tennessee — just  above  Chattanooga  if  possible — 
and  perhaps  I  may  strike  their  line  connecting  with 
Rosecrans'  headquarters  at  the  front,  and  gather  in 
the  latest  news.  'It  never  rains  but  it  pours,'  and  I'll 
get  in  all  I  can  get  while  I'm  in  luck." 

Collecting  her  papers  she  carefully  tied  them 
together  and  put  them  in  her  pocket.  Then  turning 
down  the  light,  she  unlocked  the  door  and  went 
downstairs. 


Burnside 

was 

long 

to 

connect 

with 

as 

soon 

as 

ordered 

to 

advise 

his 

movements 

Hal  leek 

words  down  under  each  other.  Then  go  up  the  first,  down  the 
fourth,  up  the  third,  up  the  second.  Benjamin  means  Rosecrans, 
Burton  means  Burnside,  Applause  means  Halleck. 

Thus  : 
To  Rosecrans 

ago  ordered 

your  left 

possible        and 
you  of 

The  key  to  the  preceding  dispatch  is  as  follows  :  The  first 
word  (Banks)  denotes  that  there  are  four  lines  and  four  columns. 
Begin  at  the  bottom  of  the  second,  skipping  every  fifth  (check) 
word  and  lay  the  words  up  this  column.  Then  go  down  the  first, 
up  the  third,  and  down  the  fourth. 

The  key  to  the  longer  or  first  dispatch  is  :  The  first  word 
(Volunteers)  denotes  that  there  are  nine  lines  and  six  columns. 
Go  up  the  third  column,  down  the  second,  up  the  fourth,  down  the 
fifth,  up  the  first,  down  the  sixth. 

This  code,  varied  as  in  the  above  dispatches,  was  in  use  during 
the  greater  part  of  the  war. 


X. 

A   PROMISE    SOON    BROKEN. 

COLONEL  MAYNARD  was  in  the  habit  of  mak- 
ing frequent  visits  to  his  wife,  and  without  warn- 
ing. Laura  understood  perfectly  the  embarrassing 
position  in  which  he  would  be  placed  at  surprising  a 
Confederate  spy  under  the  same  roof  with  herself  and 
protected  by  her.  She  had  no  mind  to  place  him  in 
any  such  position.  When  Miss  Baggs  went  upstairs 
Laura  posted  a  sentry,  in  the  person  of  Uncle  Daniel, 
to  keep  a  sharp  lookout  and  give  notice  of  the  colo- 
nel's approach,  in  order  that  Miss  Baggs  might  be  got 
out  of  the  way  before  his  arrival.  Daniel  sat  down 
on  a  bench  on  the  veranda  and  lit  his  pipe.  He  was 
an  old  man  and  prone  to  dose.  It  was  not  long 
before  Lookout  Mountain,  across  the  river,  began  to 
sway  among  the  clouds,  the  nearer  trees  began  to 
rock,  the  old  negro's  head  fell  upon  his  breast,  and 
he  slept. 

It  was  nearly  ten  o'clock  when  Laura,  having  given 
up  the  coming  of  her  husband  that  night,  and  for  once 
in  her  life  rejoicing  thereat,  was  about  to  dismiss 
Daniel  from  his  responsible  position,  when  she  heard 
a  step  on  the  veranda.  Thinking  it  was  Daniel  walk- 
ing back  and  forth  to  keep  himself  awake,  she  paid  no 
attention  to  it.  There  was  a  turning  of  the  knob  to 
the  front  door,  and  in  another  moment  Colonel  May- 
103 


1 04  CHICK  A  MA  UGA . 

nard  stood  on  the  threshold  of  the  sitting-room,  look- 
ing in  upon  Mrs.  Fain,  Laura,  Souri,  and  Miss  Baggs. 
He  was  about  to  enter  when,  observing  a  strange  per- 
son, he  hesitated.  Laura  advanced,  and  taking  him 
by  the  hand  led  him  to  another  room.  He  had  only 
once  before  seen  Miss  Baggs  and  then  in  disguise, 
and  did  not  recognize  her. 

"Why,  sweetheart,"  he  said  to  his  wife,  "you're 
trembling." 

"You  came  in  so  hurriedly." 

"I  am  hurried.  We  cross  the  river  to-morrow 
morning." 

"To-morrow  morning!  O  Mark,  why  couldn't 
they  wait  a  few  days?" 

"If  wives  and  sweethearts  had  the  giving  of  orders, 
Uncle  Sam  would  have  his  armies  always  in  winter 
quarters." 

"Why  couldn't  this  happiness  have  lasted  just  a 
little  longer?" 

"And  then  still  a  little  longer.  Come,  I  have  but 
a  short  time  to  stay.  Let  me  say  good-by  to  the 
baby." 

Laura  led  the  way  upstairs,  and  drew  the  curtains 
from  the  cradle,  exposing  the  sleeping  infant. 

There  was  something  in  the  innocence,  the  absence 
of  force  in  the  little  slumberer,  so  different  from  the 
scenes  in  which  he  was  wont  to  mingle,  to  set  in 
motion  a  train  of  feelings  in  Mark  Maynard  to  which 
he  had  thus  far  been  a  stranger.  On  the  one  side 
was  the  wife  he  loved  and  the  sleeping  child ;  on  the 
other,  what  now  appeared  toilsome  marches,  nights 
spent  on  wet  ground,  sickness,  mangling  by  shell,  and 


CHICKAMA  UGA.  105 

bullets,  and  sabre  cuts.  A  year  before  he  had  loved 
these  hardships,  these  dangers.  Now  a  new  element 
had  entered  into  his  life,  and,  at  least  while  he  gazed 
on  the  little  stranger  (the  only  life  that  had  come  to 
him  among  the  many  gone  since  the  war  began),  he 
felt  a  strange  repugnance  to  entering  upon  the  coming 
campaign. 

"My  boy,  my  boy,"  he  said  huskily,  the  thought 
suddenly  coming  to  him  that  he  might  never  see  wife 
or  child  again,  "how  can  I  now  risk  leaving  you  to 
struggle  on  to  manhood  unprotected?"  Then  recog- 
nizing his  weakness,  he  said  with  a  quick-born  smile: 
"But  you  have  your  mother,  and  I  must  win  the  star 
of  a  brigadier  for  you  to  play  with." 

But  war's  quick  and  imperative  demands  gave  him 
little  time  for  the  indulgence  of  such  feelings.  He 
tried  to  turn  away.  Again  and  again  he  drew  the 
curtains  of  the  cradle,  only  to  draw  them  back  for  one 
more  look. 

"Laura,"  he  said  suddenly,  "all  is  changed.  Be- 
fore you  and  he  came,  I  did  my  duty  as  a  soldier, 
because  it  was  not  hard  to  do,  and  because  it  pleased 
me.  Now  it  will  be  hard,  and  I  shall  do  it  that  you 
and  he  may  not  be  disgraced  in  me.  How  can  I  ever 
leave  a  blot  on  my  name  and  have  that  child  grow  up 
to  know  it?" 

Laura,  seeing  how  hard  it  was  for  him  to  draw  him- 
self from  the  cradle,  took  his  hand  and  led  him  away. 

Going  downstairs  they  found  the  house  silent.  All 
the  family  were  in  bed.  Maynard  knew  that  it  was 
time  he  had  departed.  It  was  very  late  and  he  must 
ride  eight  miles  to  camp,  and  be  on  the  march  with 


I06  CHICKAMAUGA. 

his  brigade  before  daylight.  But  he  could  hardly  tear 
himself  away  from  the  house.  The  sleeping  child 
upstairs  seemed  to  have  brought,  from  the  Unknown 
whence  he  came,  a  maze  of  gentler  emotions  which 
were  drifting  like  smoke-wreaths  about  his  father, 
obscuring  the  way  from  their  peaceful  influence. 

"Laura,"  he  said  impressively,  "let  us  always  keep 
ourselves  pure  for  him.  Do  you  know  that  I  look 
back  with  horror  at  all  the  deception  I  was  obliged  to 
practice  when  a  spy — when  in  this  house  before. 
And  you — how  many  fibs  you  were  obliged  to  tell  for 
my  sake! " 

"Wasn't  it  dreadful?" 

They  were  locked  in  a  parting  embrace.  Mark 
kissed  her  again  and  again. 

"Those    were    strange    circumstances,"    he    said. 

"Frightfully  strange." 

"Which  couldn't  happen  again  in  a  century." 

"I  hope  they'll  never  happen  again  to  us." 

"Somehow  I  dislike  to  think  of  your  deception, 
even  for  my  sake.  You  won't  do  so  any  more,  will 
you,  darling?" 

"Never,"  she  whispered. 

Suddenly  he  remembered  the  strange  woman  he 
had  stumbled  on  when  he  came  in. 

"By  the  bye,"  he  asked,  "who  was  the  lady  with 
you  this  evening  ?" 

Laura's  promise  to  deceive  no  more  had  been 
breathed  only  a  moment.  What  was  she  to  say?  She 
could  not  betray  the  woman  who  had  thrown  herself 
upon  her  protection ;  she  could  not  place  her  beloved 
husband  in  an  equivocal  position. 

"She?     Oh,  she  was  only  one  of  the  neighbors  who 


CHICK  AM  A  UGA.  107 

came  in  to  help  me  with  some  things  I'm  making  for 
the  baby." 

There  was  one  more  embrace;  then  another  last 
one;  then  another  final  one:  then  a  stirrup  kiss;  and 
Colonel  Mark  Maynard  rode  back  through  the  night 
to  camp. 

Not  long  after  his  arrival  bugles  sounded  the  reveille. 
It  was  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  the  men  were 
aroused  to  begin  their  advance  to  the  front.  Sending 
for  Jakey  Slack  the  colonel  gave  him  a  note  to  take 
back  to  Laura  at  the  plantation  He  had  repeated  his 
adieus  so  often  in  person  that  one  would  hardly  think 
it  necessary  to  send  any  more  on  cold  paper,  but 
Maynard's  heart  strings  were  pulling  him  as  strongly 
away  from  war  as  his  duty  was  forcing  him  toward  it. 
Besides  he  knew  that  Laura  would  treasure  every 
word  from  him. 

Jakey  mounted  Tom,  and  rode  in  the  gray  of  the 
morning  to  deliver  the  note.  When  he  reached  the 
plantation  he  was  obliged  to  do  a  good  deal  of  pound- 
ing and  ringing  before  he  could  get  into  the  house. 
Finally  Mrs.  Maynard's  maid,  Alice,  let  him  in,  and 
considering  the  fact  that  Mrs.  Maynard  was  in  bed 
and  Alice  stood  in  very  close  confidential  relations 
with  her,  Jakey  consented  to  deliver  the  note  to  the 
maid,  and  waited  to  see  if  there  was  any  reply.  Alice 
returned  and  said  that  her  mistress  would  be  down  in 
a  moment.  Presently  she  entered,  dressed  in  a  morn- 
ing wrapper. 

"Jakey,"  she  said,  taking  the  boy  by  the  hand  and 
smoothing  his  hair  out  of  his  eyes,  "can  I  rely  on 
you  to  do  something  for  me?" 

"Could  the  colonel?" 


I  o8  CHICK  A  MA  UGA . 

"You  are  all  going  to  the  front,  and  no  one  can  tell 
what  may  happen.  You'll  probably  have  to  meet 
your  enemies  sometime,  and  the  colonel  says  that  a 
battle  may  come  at  any  day.  I  want  you  to  promise 
me  that  if  anything  should  happen  to  the  colonel  you 
will  come  here  as  fast  as  you  can  and  let  me  know  of 
it.     Do  you  understand?" 

"Y'  mean  ef  th'  colonel  gits  hit  on  th'  for'ead  with 
a  cannon  ball?" 

"O  Jakey,  don't  talk  so.  I  mean  if  he  gets  sick  or 
wounded  or  in  any  other  trouble,  will  you  come  and 
tell  me  at  once?" 

"Reckon." 

Laura  knew  that  this  was  Jakey's  way  of  making  a 
promise,  and  she  was  satisfied.  She  told  him  to  wait 
a  few  minutes,  and  went  out  of  the  room.  When  she 
returned  she  brought  two  parcels  with  her. 

"This  one  is  for  you,  Jakey,"  she  said,  handing 
him  one  of  them.  "It's  a  luncheon.  Put  it  in  your 
haversack,  and  give  the  other  to  the  colonel.  And 
hand  him  this  note." 

She  gave  him  a  tiny  white  envelope,  within  which  in 
a  few  words  was  concentrated  what  may  be  best 
expressed  as  three  days'  rations  of  desiccated  affection. 

Jakey  took  the  parcels  and  placing  the  note  in  his 
cap,  went  out,  mounted  Tom,  and  dashed  away  after 
his  commander. 

Maynard's  brigade  crossed  the  river  south  of  Look- 
out Mountain  and  passed  over  the  mountain's  face 
where  it  juts  onto  the  river.  The  enemy  had  been 
dispossessed  and  Maynard  had  little  to  do  except 
to  cast  an    occasional    glance    down   upon    the  Fain 


CHICKAMAUGA.  109 

plantation,  which  he  could  see  plainly  and  where 
dwelt  what  was  all  the  world  to  him.  During  the  day, 
with  a  glass,  he  could  see  people  on  the  veranda,  and 
fancied  that  his  wife  and  boy  were  tliere.  As  the  sun 
was  setting,  he  took  a  last  view  before  descending  to 
the  more  level  ground  below.  He  was  destined  to 
pass  through  strange  scenes,  to  undergo  marked 
changes,  before  he  would  see  his  beloved  again. 

His  command  was  but  one  of  the  many,  all  moving 
forward  toward  a  retreating  enemy.  The  three  corps, 
of  which  the  Army  of  the  Cumberland  consisted, 
crossed  the  Tennessee  at  different  points.  General 
Thomas,  once  across,  moved  to  Stevens'  Gap,  an 
opening  in  a  range  called  Lookout  Mountain,  extend- 
ing south  from  near  Chattanooga.  There  he  entered 
the  valley  of  Chickaraauga  Creek.  General  McCook 
seized  Winston's  Gap,  further  south  in  the  same 
chain.  General  Crittenden  crossed  from  the  Se 
quatchee  Valley,  moving  over  Lookout  Mountain 
toward  Chattanooga.  Bragg,  finding  his  communica- 
tions threatened  by  McCook  and  Thomas,  evacuated 
Chattanooga  and  retreated  to  Lafayette,  twenty  miles 
south.  Crittenden,  passing  through  Chattanooga, 
pushed  on  to  Ringold. 

Colonel  Maynard  moved  his  command  through 
Chattanooga  to  Rossville,  situated  at  a  gap  in  Mission 
Ridge.  From  there  he  was  ordered  forward,  entering 
what  is  called  McLenm.ore's  Cove,  an  undulating 
space  lying  between  two  ranges.  Mission  Ridge  and 
the  Pigeon  Mountains.  There  the  brigade  encamped 
on  a  field  soon  to  become  memorable  as  the  scene  of 
one  of  the  most  desperate,  the  most  dramatic  of  all 
the  battles  of  the  Civil  War— the  field  of  Chickamauga, 


XI. 

A    RACE    FOR    LIFE. 

MAJOR  BURKE'S  command  was  ordered  to 
guard  the  telegraph  line  extending  south  from 
Rossville.  The  regmient  was  strung  out  to  a  consid- 
erable distance,  each  troop  guarding  a  certain  portion 
of  the  line.  Corporal  Ratigan  was  placed  in  charge 
of  a  section  of  two  miles.  Putting  himself  at  the 
head  of  eight  men  he  led  them  to  the  end  of  his  sec- 
tion nearest  camp,  and  dividing  them  into  two  reliefs 
of  four  men  each,  posted  them  at  intervals  of  half  a 
mile  along  the  line  under  his  care.  At  sunset,  not 
being  relieved,  he  prepared  to  spend  the  night  in 
bivouac.  Selecting  a  clump  of  trees  under  which  to 
rest,  and  cutting  some  boughs  for  beds — or  rather  to 
keep  the  men  from  the  damp  ground — the  corporal 
established  the  relief,  off  duty,  there.  The  rations 
were  cooked  and  eaten,  after  which  the  guard  was 
relieved.  The  corporal  went  out  always  with  the 
relief,  posted  his  men,  and  slept  between  tunes. 

Soon  after  establishing  the  camp  Ratigan  noticed 
that  one  of  his  men  was  none  other  than  private  Flan- 
agan, whose  reputation  in  the  regiment  for  glaring 
stupidity  was  well  established. 

"Flanagan,"  he  said,  "how  came  ye  here?" 

"Faith,  I  was  ardered." 

"It  must  have  been  the  divil  that  ordered  ye.     If 


CHICK  A  MA  CGA.  Ill 

ye'r  going  to  act  as  stupid  on  this  expedition  as  ye'r 
used  to  acting,  the  wires  '11  be  cut  a  dozen  times  for 
all  you." 

Flanagan,  who  considered  himself  treated  unjustly, 
bore  the  stigma  attached  to  him  meekly.  His  good 
nature  was  all  that  saved  him  from  the  consequences 
of  the  numerous  absurdities  of  which  he  was  guilty. 
Instead  of  attempting  to  argue  the  matter  with  the 
corporal  he  occupied  his  mind  in  devising  ways  by 
which  he  might  soften  what  he  considered  his  ob- 
durate heart,  and  induce  him  to  act  toward  himself 
more  leniently. 

Soon  after  the  men  had  eaten  their  evening  rations, 
consisting  of  the  ordinary  bacon  and  hard-tack,  Flan- 
agan took  his  carbine  and  strolled  to  a  thicket  near  by 
to  see  if  he  could  find  anything  more  palatable  for  the 
next  meal.     He  was  soon  rewarded  by  the  sight  of  a 
bird  hopping  about  in  the  branches,  chirping  all  the 
while  and  occasionally  pausing  to  look  at  him  quizzi- 
cally, with    its   head   poised   on  one  side.     Flanagan 
determined  to  bring  it  down  for  the  corporal's  break- 
fast, thereby   propitiating   that   spirit   of   antagonism 
which,  in  his  innocence,  he  could  not  account  for.     He 
did  not  stop  to  consider  whether  the  bird  was  eatable 
or  not;   indeed  he  did  not  know.     All  he  wanted  was 
a  peace  offering.     He  approached   and   brought   his 
gun  to  an  aim.      The  bird  hopped  to  the  other  side  of 
the   tree.      He   was   obliged   to   take   a  new  position. 
The  bird  flew  to  the  next  tree.      The  private  followed. 
Just  as  he  was  about  to  fire,  the  bird  took  wing  and 
lit   on   a  branch  still   further  from  the  camp.      Thus 
was    Flanagan  led   from  one    tree  to  another  till  he 


1 1 2  CHICK  A  MA  UGA . 

found  himself  around  a  bend  in  the  road  between  the 
hills. 

Suddenly  he  espied  something  which  drew  his 
attention  from  the  object  he  was  following.  An  old 
farm  buggy,  behind  a  rawboned  horse,  stood  in  the 
road,  while  near  by  a  woman  was  coiling  a  wire  on 
her  hand,  one  end  of  which  was  dangling  over  a  tele- 
graph wire  above  her  head.  She  turned,  and  seeing  a 
Union  soldier,  became  suddenly  white  as  a  sheet. 
But  this  he  could  not  see,  owing  to  the  shade  of  her 
sunbonnet  and  glasses, 

"Good  ayvenen,  miss." 

*La  sakes,  Mr.  soger!" 

"It's  a  foine  ayvenen." 

**Reckon  't  air." 

""What  do  ye  be  doen  wid  the  little  woire?" 

By  this  time  Miss  Baggs,  for  it  was  she,  had  recov- 
ered some  of  her  equanimity, 

"I'm  a-rollen  't  up," 

"And  what's  it  for?" 

"Wal,  I'll  tell  y*.  Yer  see  th'  stone  on  th'  end? 
Wal,  thet's  fo'  to  kill  birds  with.  I  jist  throwed  th' 
stone  at  a  bird.  By  haven  it  tied  to  a  wire  I  kin  hold 
enter  th'  stone,  'n  don't  hev  ter  keep  picken  up  stones 
all  th'  while,  pertickerlerly  when  I'm  a-sitten  in  th' 
buggy." 

"It's  an  injaneyous  and  original  device." 

"What  air  you'uns  a  doen  hyar?" 

"There's  a  small  party  of  us  around  the  bend; 
we're  guyarden  the  telegraph." 

'  'How  many  of  y'  air  there  ?  " 

"A  carporal  and  eight  men,  includen  meself." 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  1 1 3 

"What  air  you'uns  doen  out  hyar  away  from  all  th' 
rest  on  'em?" 

"Follyen  a  burred." 

"Oh  !  It's  birds  yer  looken  fo'.  Wal,  you'uns  jist 
go  inter  thet  thicket  'n  y'll  git  a  hull  flock." 

"Ye  don't  mane  it!" 

Miss  Baggs  pointed  up  the  road  to  a  wood  which  if 
private  Flanagan  should  go  there  he  would  be  still 
further  away  from  his  camp. 

"Are  ye  shure  there's  a  flock?" 

"Ther  so  thick  y*  can't  see  the  sky." 

"Oi'U  try  for  'em." 

Miss  Baggs  went  on  coiling  her  wire  unconcernedly, 
till  the  private  was  out  of  sight.  Then  she  sprang 
into  her  buggy  and  giving  "Bobby"  the  lash  drove 
rapidly  away. 

"One  more  attempt  to-night,"  she  said,  "and  to- 
morrow I'll  be  off  for  our  camps.  I'll  make  it  right 
here.  If  the  rest  of  the  party  guarding  the  line  are  as 
stupid  as  this  one,  I  couldn't  wish  for  a  better 
chance." 

It  was  two  o'clock  in  the  morning  when  Ratigan 
started  out  to  post  the  last  relief  for  the  night.  The 
men  followed,  grum  and  stupid,  having  just  been 
wakened  out  of  a  sound  sleep  and  not  yet  thoroughly 
aroused.  The  party  rode  to  the  extreme  end  of  the 
section,  left  a  man,  and  turned  back,  leaving  a  man 
at  every  half  mile.  Corporal  Ratigan  had  posted  the 
last  man  half  a  mile  from  the  bivouac  and  was  return- 
ing, when  suddenly,  turning  a  bend  in  the  road  run- 
ning through  a  wood,  lie  descried  a  dark  object  before 
him  beside  the  road.      He  drew  rein  and  watched  and 


1 1 4  CHICK  A  MA  UCA , 

listened.  The  dark  object,  as  he  fixed  his  gaze  upon 
it,  grew  into  the  dim  outlines  of  a  vehicle,  but  it  was 
too  dark  for  him  to  see  if  it  contained  anyone.  The 
corporal,  whose  mind  had  been  fixed  on  the  special 
duty  of  protecting  the  line,  at  once  assumed  that 
someone  was  trying  to  cut  the  wire.  He  put  spurs  to 
his  horse  and  called  out: 

"Halt  there!  Throw  up  your  hands  and  surren- 
der, or  I'll  shoot." 

The  only  response  was  a  swish  from  a  whip  which 
came  down  evidently  on  a  horse's  back,  and  the  dark 
mass  before  him  vanished  around  the  bend  in  the 
road.  The  corporal  dashed  on,  but  before  he  could 
get  round  the  bend  the  object  had  turned  again.  He 
could  hear  the  rattling  of  wheels,  and  sounds  of  a 
horse's  hoofs  digging  into  the  road  at  a  gallop. 
Whoever  was  behind  that  horse  must  be  driving  at  a 
frightful  pace,  for  urging  his  own  beast  to  his  best  he 
seemed  to  lose  rather  than  gain  ground.  Coming  to  a 
straight  piece  of  road  he  could  again  see  the  object 
before  him,  but  in  the  darkness  it  was  simply  a  darker 
spot  than  its  surroundings. 

The  corporal  found  himself  started  in  a  chase 
which  from  the  first  promised  to  be  an  unequal  one. 
True,  the  animal  with  which  his  own  was  vying  was 
dragging  some  sort  of  a  vehicle,  while  the  corporal's 
steed  had  his  load  all  on  his  back.  There  was  a  hun- 
dred and  eighty  pounds  of  human  flesh,  some  thirty 
to  forty  ]50unds  of  weapons  and  ammunition,  besides 
clothing,  and  several  pounds  of  cavalry  boots. 
Whether  or  no  the  odds  were  in  favor  of  the  one  or 
the  other,  the  two  animals  had  passed  over  a  mile,  and 


Chick  A  ma  uCa  .  115 

Ratigan  could  not  tell  whether  he  had  lost  or  gained. 
There  were  strange  sounds  mingling  with  the  more 
distinct  rattling  of  wheels  in  front,  but  the  corporal's 
sabre,  as  it  gyrated  in  the  air,  knocked  against  his  left 
leg,  thrashed  under  his  horse's  belly,  made  such  a 
clatter  that  all  other  noises  were  but  whispers  in  a 
storm.  Then  there  was  his  carbine  to  pound  against 
him  and  his  horse's  side,  threatening  at  each  beat  to 
break  a  rib.  Indeed  the  corporal,  after  vainly  trying 
to  carry  both  sabre  and  carbine  in  one  hand,  while  he 
held  the  reins  with  the  other,  and  dug  his  heels  into 
his  horse's  flanks,  began  to  think  that  he  could  do 
better  in  a  wagon  than  so  hampered  on  a  horse's  back. 

Then  he  decided  to  try  what  effect  a  bullet  would 
have  on  the  fugitive.  Dropping  both  sabre  and  car- 
bine he  drew  his  revolver  and  fired  a  couple  of  shots. 
He  did  not  aim  directly  at  the  flying  object,  for  he  did 
not  know  what  he  was  firing  at.  The  only  effect 
produced  seemed  to  be  a  renewed  effort  on  the  part 
of  the  steed  in  front. 

Suddenly  the  ears  of  the  corporal  caught  a  sound 
that  filled  him  with  astonishment.  It  was  a  voice 
urging  forward  the  borse  he  was  chasing.  Ratigan 
had  supposed  that  whoever  was  trying  to  escape  was  a 
man,  yet  this  voice  was  different  from  a  man's  tones; 
it  sounded  like  that  of  a  child  or  a  woman.  The 
corporal  was  puzzled.  Then  it  suddenly  occurred  to 
him  that  perhaps  he  was  chasing  Betsy  Baggs. 

Now,  the  corpora]  was  as  conscientious  a  man  as 
there  was  in  the  Army  of  the  Cumberland,  and  one  of 
the  most  gallant,  but  when  the  suspicion  fell  upon 
him  like  a  chill,  that  he  was   after  a  woman   whose 


1 1 6  CHICK  A  MA  UGA  . 

presence,  for  the  brief  period  he  had  been  with  her, 
had  thrown  a  strange  spell  over  him,  he  ceased  to 
urge  his  horse  with  the  same  pressure  as  before.  In 
the  midst  of  the  chase  there  had  come  a  contest 
within  his  own  breast  between  two  conflicting  emo- 
tions. If  Betsy  Baggs  were  in  front  of  him,  what 
would  be  the  result  if  he  should  catch  her?  He  must 
turn  her  over  to  the  military  authorities,  and  the 
chances  were  she  would  be  executed  for  a  spy.  On 
the  other  hand,  supposing  he  permitted  her  to  escape, 
he  would  be  liberating  an  enemy  far  more  dangerous 
to  the  army  in  which  he  served  than  a  dozen  batter- 
ies. In  short,  he  would  be  a  traitor  to  his  comrades 
and  his  cause. 

The  corporal  turned  these  two  alternatives  over 
rapidly  in  his  mind,  dwelling  first  on  one  and  then  on 
the  other,  till  he  thought  he  would  go  mad.  At  one 
moment  his  sense  of  duty,  acting  all-powerful,  would 
drive  his  spurs  into  his  horse's  flanks  till  the  blood 
flowed.  Then  he  would  see  a  picture  of  Miss  Baggs, 
as  he  had  once  seen  her  standing  up  in  her  buggy 
under  the  protection  of  Confederate  troopers,  her  eye 
lighting  with  delight  at  his  confusion,  her  hair  half 
undone,  the  bewitching  smile  that  revealed  her  white 
teeth.  He  would  suddenly  turn  from  this  picture  to 
the  woman  standing  before  a  file  of  soldiers  to  whom 
he,  Corporal  Ratigan,  had  turned  her  over  for  execu- 
tion. One  feature  held  him  on  to  the  chase.  It  was 
that  he  did  not  surely  know  whom  he  followed.  He 
suspected  Miss  Baggs,  but  for  all  he  knew  it  might  be 
someone  else.     So  he  pressed  on  and  did  his  best. 

Miss  Baggs,  for  it  was  she,  had  passed  many  pick- 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA  i  1 7 

ets,  had  experienced  many  lucky  escapes.  She  had 
browbeaten  officers,  and  had  cozened  soldiers.  She 
had  gone  through  a  dozen  places  where  a  man  would 
surely  have  been  arrested.  For  months  she  had  been 
in  quest  of  information  that  would  give  her  cause  the 
victory  in  the  West.  When  surprised  by  the  corporal, 
she  had  just  taken  off  telegrams  revealing  the  whole 
situation  of  the  Army  of  the  Cumberland.  She  had 
withdrawn  her  wire,  had  closed  her  box,  and  when 
the  corporal  came  up  was  preparing  to  start.  And 
now,  after  passing  so  many  dangers,  on  the  very  eve  of 
success,  she  suddenly  found  herself  in  the  most  criti- 
cal of  all  the  situations  she  had  ever  been  placed  in. 

Meanwhile  the  long  legs  of  "Bobby  Lee"  were  get- 
ting over  the  ground  at  an  astonishing  pace.  It  was 
not  the  triangulation  of  a  former  race  for  sport  with 
Corporal  Ratigan,  but  the  quick,  short  jumps  of  a 
race  for  life.  And  Bobby  seemed  to  know  the 
stake.  Never  in  his  former  flights  had  his  ear  been 
turned  back  so  eagerly  to  catch  the  low  tones  of  his 
mistress.  Never  had  there  been  so  much  feeling  in 
that  mistress'  voice.  It  was:  "Go  on,  Bobby! 
Good  old  horse.  Get  up!  On!  on!  on!  That's  a 
dear  boy.  It's  life  and  death  with  me,  Bobby";  a 
continued  stream  of  broken  words  and  sentences,  all 
of  which  Bobby  seemed  to  understand  and  act  upon 
as  if  he  had  been  a  human  being. 

The  fugitive  knew  that  the  chase  could  not  be  a 
long  one.  Her  crazy  vehicle  was  like  a  rotten  hulk 
in  a  storm  without  sea  room.  To  the  north  was  the 
Tennessee  River,  and  no  means  of  crossing.  Ahead 
was  Chickamauga  Creek,  but  between  her  and  it  lay 


1 1 8  CHICK  A  MA  VGA . 

the  scattered  forces  of  the  left  wing  of  the  Union 
army.  She  knew  the  ground  well,  and  had  as  good 
a  knowledge  of  the  positions  of  the  troops  as  one 
could  have  of  an  army  constantly  changing.  The 
point  from  which  she  had  started  was  half  a  mile  west 
of  Rossville  on  the  Lafayette  road.  A  mile  of  chas- 
ing had  brought  her  near  a  fork,  the  left  road  leading 
across  Chickamauga  Creek  by  Dyer's  bridge;  the 
right  leading  directly  south.  By  the  former  route 
three  miles  would  bring  her  to  the  creek  and  in  prox- 
imity to  the  Confederate  outposts;  by  the  latter,  she 
would  have  to  traverse  double  the  distance  and  pass 
the  camps  of  a  whole  corps  of  the  Union  army.  But 
even  the  scattered  forces  on  the  shorter  road  seemed 
an  impassable  barrier  to  her,  and  it  was  not  probable 
that  any  bridge  across  the  creek  would  be  left  un- 
guarded. There  were  as  many  fords  as  there  were 
bridges,  and  if  she  could  strike  one  of  these  she  might 
possibly  find  a  free  passage.  She  determined  to  take 
the  left-hand  road,  intending,  if  she  should  succeed  in 
reaching  Dyer's  Mill,  about  a  mile  from  the  creek, 
to  strike  a  ford  some  distance  below  that  she  remem- 
bered having  once  crossed. 

These  possibilities  flashed  through  her  mind  like 
messages  over  a  telegraph  wire,  while  the  thud  of 
hoofs  and  the  clattering  of  her  pursuer's  swinging 
sabre  were  sounding  in  her  ears. 

"On,  on,  Bobby,  for  Heaven's  sake,  go  on." 

Would  it  not  be  best  for  her  to  leave  her  horse  and 

buggy   in    the    road   and    take   to    the    woods?       No. 

They  would  mark  the  point  where  she  had  left  them. 

But  her  pursuer  would   not   know  which  side  of  the 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  Up 

road  she  had  taken,  and  there  would  be  an  even 
chance  that  he  would  follow  on  the  wrong  side. 
Something  must  be  done;  the  race  could  not  last  for- 
ever; the  man  behind  seemed  to  be  gaining;  and  then 
the  dread  of  coming  upon  a  Union  camp! 

She  was  about  to  bring  her  horse  to  a  stand  and 
jump  from  her  buggy,  when  the  clatter  behind  her — 
Ratigan  had  turned  a  slight  bend  in  the  road — 
sounded  so  loud,  so  near,  that  instead  of  doing  so  she 
gave  him  a  cut  with  the  whip. 

"There's  no  time  now,  Bobby.  We  must  put  a 
greater  distance  between  us  and  the  Yankee.  Get 
up,  Bobby!      Oh,  go  on!     Why  haven't  you  wings?" 

Heavens!  what  is  that  ahead?  Tents  white  and 
ghostly  in  the  gloom!  And  how  many  of  them! 
The  whole  field  is  covered! 

Nearer  comes  the  clatter  from  behind.  In  front  is 
a  sleeping  regiment,  brigade,  perhaps  a  whole  divi- 
sion. It  was  not  there  yesterday.  It  must  be  in  tran- 
sit. Oh,  why  should  it  have  halted  just  in  time  to 
block  the  way? 

"God  help  me,  I  must  take  my  chances  and  go 
on." 

Sentinels  were  pacing  on  their  beats  about  the 
camps.  In  some  cases  the  beats  led  along  the  road, 
but  not  across  it.  Right  through  these  chains  of  sen- 
tinels, right  into  the  heart  of  this  sleeping  multitude 
of  armed  men,  dashed  the  woman  whose  only  weapons 
of  defense  were  Bobby  Lee  and  her  antiquated 
vehicle. 

"Halt!" 

"Goon,  Bob." 


1 2  O  CHICK  A  MA  UGA . 

A  shot,  a  bullet  singing  like  a  tuning  fork,  in  ears 
which  already  sang  loud  enough  in  themselves  with 
excitement.  ' 

' '  Tur)i  out  the  guard  !  ' ' 

Following  Miss  Baggs  came  Corporal  Ratigan,  to 
find  the  road  in  front  of  him  blocked  by  half  a  dozen 
men  with  as  many  muskets  pointed  right  up  in  his  face. 

He  uttered  an  involuntary  "thank  God!"  He 
must  be  delayed ;  the  responsibility  for  the  escape  of 
the  fugitive  would  be  with  them.  If  indeed  she  were 
Miss  Baggs  he  would  regard  himself  fortunate  at  the 
delay. 

"What's  the  matter?"  asked  one  of  the  men. 

"I'm  chasing  some  one  in  front.  I  suspect  a  tele- 
graph breaker." 

"Ah!  That's  it,  is  it?  Well,  go  on;  we've 
stopped  the  wrong  person." 

The  corporal  regretted  that  the  interview  had  been 
so  brief,  the  interruption  so  short.  He  had  no 
option  but  to  dash  on. 

Before  the  fugitive  there  stood  a  man  in  the  middle 
of  the  road  with  a  musket  leveled  straight  at  her,  or 
rather  at  the  coming  mass  which  he  could  not  distin- 
guish. Miss  Baggs  did  not  see  him  till  she  got  within 
a  dozen  feet  of  him  and  heard  : 

"Halt,  or  I'll  fire!" 

Rising  in  her  seat  and  concentrating  all  her  strength 
in  one  effort,  she  brought  her  whip  down  on  the 
horse's  back,  at  the  same  time  holding  him  in  the 
center  of  the  road  by  the  reins.  The  man  was 
knocked  in  one  direction,  stunned,  and  his  musket 
went  llying  in  the  other. 


CHICKAMAUGA.  121 

And  now  each  one  of  the  chain  of  sentries  through 
which  the  fair  dispatch  stealer's  horse  dragged  her 
and  her  swaying  buggy  with  a  series  of  lunges, 
hearing  shots,  the  cries  of  guards,  the  clatter  of 
horse's  hoofs,  the  rattling  of  wheels,  and  seeing  some- 
thing coming  through  the  darkness  as  Miss  Baggs  ap- 
proached, shouted  "Halt!"  "Turn  out  the  guard." 
"Who  comes  there?"  and  a  score  of  other  similar 
cries,  to  none  of  which  Miss  Baggs  paid  any  other 
attention  than  to  fly  through  and  from  them  as  from 
the  hand  of  Death.  A  score  of  shots  were  fired  at  her 
along  half  a  mile  of  road  while  she  was  running  the 
gauntlet. 

And  now  the  last  sentry  is  passed  and  the  woman 
shoots  out  from  between  the  rows  of  white  tents  into  a 
free  road  ahead.  The  noises  are  left  behind.  But 
amid  the  confusion  of  distant  sounds  is  one  which, 
coming  with  a  low,  continued  rattle,  strikes  terror  into 
her  heart.  A  familiarity  with  war  has  taught  her  its 
calls.  She  hears  the  beating  of  the  "long  roll."  The 
whole  camp  is  aroused.  A  legion  of  Yankees  may 
soon  be  in  pursuit. 

Corporal  Ratigan  was  stopped  by  every  sentinel 
who  had  tried  to  check  Miss  Baggs.  After  an  ex- 
planation to  each  he  was  suffered  to  go  on.  The  men 
who  stopped  him  transmitted  the  information  at  once 
to  the  guard  tent  that  some  one — doubtless  an  enemy 
— was  being  chased.  The  force  was  a  division  of 
infantry,  with  no  cavalry  except  a  mounted  escort  to 
the  general  commanding.  Some  of  these  were 
ordered  in  pursuit.  There  was  a  hurried  saddling  of 
horses,    sprinkled   with  oaths  at   the  delays    encoun- 


122  CHICK  A  MA  UGA . 

tered,  and  three  cavalrymen  mounted,  and  dashed 
after  Miss  Baggs  and  her  pursuer.  But  before  they 
started,  a  couple  of  miles  had  been  placed  between 
her  and  the  camps. 

The  gray  of  the  morning  was  by  this  time  beginning 
to  reveal  objects  with  greater  distinctness.  Ratigan, 
coming  to  a  rise  in  the  ground  just  beyond  the  camps, 
saw  tlie  buggy  about  two  miles  ahead  swaying  like  the 
dark  hull  of  a  ship  rolling  through  the  billows  of  an 
ocean.  For  a  moment  he  hesitated  between  his  duty 
as  a  soldier,  and  that  quick,  sharp  something,  be  it  love, 
bewitchment,  or  a  natural  sympathy  of  man  for  weaker 
woman,  while  beads  of  cold  perspiration  stood  on  his 
forehead.  It  seemed  to  him  that  if  he  should  do  his 
duty  he  would  be  acting  the  part  of  an  executioner; 
not  only  that,  but  the  executioner  of  a  woman — a 
woman  whose  image  had  got  into  his  heart  and  his 
head,  and  never  left  him  a  moment's  peace  since  she 
first  threw  the  spell  of  her  entrancing  personality 
about  him.  It  was  a  hard  struggle,  and  from  the 
nature  of  the  case  could  not  be  a  long  one.  Duty 
won.  He  shouted  to  his  horse,  gave  him  a  dig  with 
both  spurs,  and  dashed  forward. 

There  was  a  depression  in  the  ground  down  which 
the  corporal  plunged.  Then  the  road  ran  along  a 
level  for  a  while,  with  another  slight  rise  beyond.  As 
he  rode  down  the  declivity  the  fugitive  was  on  the 
crest  of  the  second  rise.  She  stood  up  and  turned  to 
catch  a  glance  behind  her.  She  saw  a  horseman — she 
was  too  far  to  recognize  the  corporal — dashing  after 
her.  Below  her  was  a  wooded  space,  and  she  noticed 
that  which   gave  her  a  glimmer  of  hope.     The  road 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  123 

forked.  Urging  her  horse  onward  she  aimed  to  get 
on  one  of  the  two  roads  beyond  the  fork  while  her 
pursuer  was  in  the  hollow  back  of  her,  trusting  that 
she  might  escape  as  she  had  escaped  before,  by  forc- 
ing him  to  choose  between  two  roads,  and  trusting 
that  he  might  take  the  wrong  one. 

Down  the  declivity  her  racer  plunged  while  Ratigan 
was  galloping  down  the  one  behind  her.  So  steep 
was  the  road  and  so  swift  her  horse's  pace  that  the 
danger  of  death  by  mangling  seemed  greater  than 
death  by  hanging.  She  reached  the  bottom,  where  the 
road  ran  level  to  the  fork  and  the  wood.  Hope 
urged  her.  It  was  not  a  hundred  yards  to  the  point 
slie  was  so  anxious  to  reach. 

There  is  a  story  of  a  wonderful  one-horse  shay, 
which  had  been  made  so  perfectly  that,  no  one  part 
being  weaker  than  the  rest,  it  never  gave  out  till  at 
last  the  whole  collapsed  together.  Miss  Baggs'  buggy 
was  one  she  had  found  in  a  countryman's  barn,  and 
had  been  donated  to  the  cause.  It  had  been  an 
excellent  vehicle  in  its  day,  though  when  she  acquired 
it,  was  in  extreme  old  age.  Its  forlorn  appearance 
suited  her  purpose  admirably,  and  after  numerous 
tests  she  had  come  to  place  greater  reliance  on  its 
endurance  than  on  that  of  a  newer  conveyance.  But 
there  came  a  time  when  if  no  part  would  give  way  all 
must  give  way.  That  time  was  now  at  hand.  Pass- 
ing over  a  rut  at  the  very  fork  of  the  road  that  seemed 
her  only  chance  for  escape,  the  old  buggy  gave  a  dis- 
mal groan,  as  much  in  sympathy  with  the  mistress  it 
had  served  so  well,  as  a  death  rattle,  and  flew  into  a 
hundred  pieces. 


XII. 

A    CHANGED    ENEMY. 

CORPORAL  RATIGAN  had  been  worked  up  to 
such  a  fever  of  excitement  by  the  chase  and  his 
complicated  feelings  toward  the  object  of  it,  that  when 
he  shot  over  the  rise  in  the  ground  that  hid  the  fugi- 
tive from  his  view,  his  visage  was  distorted  from  the 
expression  of  good  nature  usually  stamped  upon  it  to 
one  which  can  only  be  called  demoniac.  His  eyes 
were  wild;  that  portion  of  his  hair  which  extended 
below  his  forage  cap  seemed  to  glow  with  unusual 
redness;  his  body  leaned  forward  like  a  jockey  in  a 
race — the  whole  forming  a  picture  of  eager  ferocity. 
In  short,  Corporal  Ratigan  resembled  an  escaped 
lunatic  chasing  a  flying  fiend  who  had  been  torturing 
him. 

On  the  crest  of  the  second  rise  he  strained  his  eyes 
after  Miss  Baggs.  Nothing  appeared  to  denote  her 
presence  on  the  landscape  except  a  horse  in  harness, 
which  he  dragged  in  the  dust,  trotting  back  toward  a 
heap  of  rubbish  on  the  road.  A  sudden  dread  took 
possession  of  the  corporal.  It  was  plainly  evident 
there  had  been  an  accident.  He  had  been  chasing  a 
Confederate  telegraph  stealer,  that  he  might  turn  her 
over  to  the  military,  authorities  of  his  own  army  to  be 
hanged,  and  now  he  was  suddenly  plunged  into  terror 
for  fear  she  had  been  killed.     He  went  on,  but  with 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  1 2  5 

a  new  object  distinct  in  his  mind.  It  was  not  to 
injure  Miss  Baggs,  but  to  succor  her. 

He  soon  came  to  the  heap  of  splinters  and  iron 
which  marked  the  point  of  collapse  of  Miss  Baggs' 
buggy.  Miss  Baggs  was  not  visible.  Had  she  taken 
to  the  wood  beyond  the  fork  of  the  road?  For  a 
moment  there  was  a  delightful  sense  of  relief,  but  it 
was  soon  followed  by  the  animal  instinct  of  the  savage 
chasing  an  object  of  prey.  Stimulated  by  this  or  a 
return  of  a  sense  of  duty,  or  both,  he  was  about  to 
ride  into  the  wood,  when  looking  down  on  the  long 
grass  by  the  roadside  he  descried  the  unconscious 
body,  the  face  apparently  white  in  death,  of  the 
woman  he  sought. 

In  a  moment  the  corporal  was  off  his  horse  and  on 
his  knees  beside  her.  The  chase  in  which  he  had 
been  so  eager,  and  the  cause,  were  both  forgotten  on 
seeing  Miss  Baggs  lying  apparently  cold  in  death  at 
his  feet. 

"Darlin",  are  ye  hurt?" 

There  was  agony  in  the  corporal's  voice.  He  put  an 
arm  under  her  head  to  raise  it;  with  the  other  he 
grasped  her  hands. 

"To  the  divil's  own  keeping  with  the  war  anyway. 
What's  't  good  for,  except  to  injure  innocent  women 
and  children?" 

In  that  non-resistance  of  unconsciousness  he  forgot 
that  this  woman  had  been  engaged  in  what  the  world 
condemns  openly,  if  not  secretly,  as  illegitimate  war- 
fare. To  him  she  was  innocent.  Not  that  he  rea- 
soned upon  her  acts,  but  because  a  mysterious  some- 
thing— a  breath  from  spirit  land — had  made  her  more 


1 2  6  CHICK  A  MA  UGA . 

to  him  than  all  the  world  beside.  He  laid  his  head 
down  upon  her  breast  to  listen  if  the  heart  beat;  he 
chafed  her  hands  and  arms;  he  took  off  his  cap  and 
fanned  her.  Still  she  lay  limp  in  his  arms  without  a 
sign  of  life. 

"Darlin',  darlin',  come  back  to  life.  Come  back, 
if  it's  only  long  enough  to  tell  nie  ye  forgive  me  for 
me  cowardly  chasen  ye.  Oi've  killed  ye.  Oi  know  't. 
Oi  wish  some  one  would  run  a  bayonet  through  me 
own  rotten  heart. 

A  slight  murmur,  something  like  a  groan,  escaped 
her. 

"Praise  God  there's  life!  If  it  'd  only  grow 
stronger.     Ah,  thank  Heaven!   there's  water! " 

Laying  her  head  down  in  the  grass,  he  went  to  the 
side  of  the  road  where  there  was  a  runnel  of  clear 
water.  Scooping  some  of  it  in  his  two  hands  he 
threw  it  in  her  face. 

She  opened  her  eyes. 

Corporal  Ratigan  never  forgot  the  look  with  Avhich 
his  prisoner  regarded  him  when  she  recognized  who 
he  was.  There  were  two  expressions  following  each 
other  rapidly — the  first,  reproach  ;  but  when  she 
noticed  the  pain  with  which  it  was  received,  it  melted 
into  one  of  tenderness. 

"Ah,  Rats,"  she  exclaimed  faintly,  "how  could 
you  do  it?" 

He  put  his  great  hands — brown  from  exposure — 
before  his  eyes  to  shut  out  the  face  which  at  every 
glance  kindled  some  new  emotion  to  rack  him.  Now 
that  she  had  come  to  life,  another  terror  came  to  him 
to    administer    an    added    torture.      He  knew   that 


CHICKAMAUGA.  I27 

mounted  men  were  following,  that  they  would  soon 
appear  over  the  crest  just  behind  them,  that  his  pris- 
oner would  be  taken,  tried,  and  condemned. 

"They're  comen !  They'll  be  here  in  a  jiffy!"  he 
cried  wildly.  "Tell  me  that  ye  forgive  me;  tell  me 
that  ye  don't  hate  me  as  I  hate  meself, " 

"For  doing  your  duty,  Rats?" 

"Duty!  Is  it  a  man's  duty  to  run  down  a  woman 
like  a  hare?  Don't  talk  to  me  of  duty.  If  ye  suffer 
for  this,  Oi'll  desert  and  go.  back  to  Oirland;  and 
God  be  praised  if  He'll  send  a  storm  to  sink  the  ship 
and  me  in  it." 

Corporal  Ratigan  was  talking  incoherently.  He 
was  so  tortured  by  the  position  in  which  he  had 
placed  a  woman  who,  he  had  now  suddenly  discov- 
ered, had  captured  his  heart  from  the  first  moment  he 
saw  her,  that  a  torrent  of  words,  unmeaning  of  any- 
thing save  his  agony,  poured  out  from  his  lips  like 
bullets  from  a  repeating  rifie. 

"There's  a  drop  in  me  canteen — a  drop  of  whisky. 
Will  ye  take  it,  darlin' — I  mean — I  don't  know  what 
I'm  talken  about.  Let  me  put  it  to  ye'r  lips.  Take 
a  swallow.  It'll  revive  ye.  No?"  She  appeared  to 
be  passing  back  to  unconsciousness.  "Take  it  for 
moi  sake,  sweetheart.  Only  take  a  good  swallow  an' 
ye'U  be  righted." 

She  opened  her  eyes.  Evidently  she  had  heard. 
There  was  an  expression  on  her  face  indicating  that 
his  words  had  produced  that  effect  upon  her  which 
might  be  expected  in  a  woman  who  hears  a  strong 
man,  unconsciously  and  unintentionally,  declaring  his 
love. 


1 2  8  Chick  AM  A  uga. 

"Why  do  you  wish  me  to  live,  Rats?  Don't  let  me 
live.     If  you  do  I'll  die  on  the  gibbet." 

"Oh,  darlin',"  he  moaned,  "don't  be  talking  that 
way.  Oi'U  die  meself  first.  Oi'll  raise  a  mutiny. 
Oi'll " 

He  could  not  go  on.  His  words  mocked  him.  He 
well  knew  their  futility.  "Take  a  drop,  sweetheart; 
only  a  drop  for  moi  sake." 

What  a  change  from  the  day  he  had  jokingly  asked 
her  to  take  an  oath  for  "moi  sake." 

"For  your  sake,  Rats;   give  it  to  me." 

He  put  the  neck  of  a  battered  tin  canteen  to  her 
lips  and  she  drank  a  little  of  the  liquid.  It  produced 
a  beneficial  change  at  once.  A  tinge  of  color  came  to 
her  cheek  and  she  breathed  more  easily. 

"Now  if  ye'r  buggy  were  only  sound,"  he  said. 
"I'd  put  ye  in  it  an'  ye  could  go  on.  Oi'd  ride  back 
and  throw  them  from  the  scent — the  hounds!" 

"No,  you  wouldn't,  Rats.  You're  an  honorable 
soldier.  You  have  done  your  duty,  and  when  put 
face  to  face  with  it  another  time  you  will  do  it 
again." 

"For  God's  sake,  don't  tell  me  Oi'll  iver  do  me 
duty  when  it  brings  death  or  destruction  to  you." 

"You  will,  Rats." 

"Niver.  Oi'll  brain  the  man  that  dares  lay  a  fin- 
ger on  ye,  if  it's  Old  Rosey  himself." 

A  clattering  of  horses'  hoofs,  a  clanking  of  sabres, 
mounted  figures  standing  out  against  the  morning  sky 
on  the  crest  behind  them,  and  three  cavalrymen  are 
dashing  on  to  where  lies  Miss  Baggs  and  kneels  the 
corporal. 


CHICK  A  MAUGA.  1 2  9 

"Promise  me,  Rats,  that  you  will  do  nothing  fool- 
ish," she  asked  pleadingly. 

"O  God!  O'im  going  to  draw  me  revolver  on 
'em." 

"Promise." 

"I  can't." 

"¥ or  f not  sake,  Rats." 

The  faintest  trace  of  a  smile,  despite  her  desperate 
situation,  passed  over  her  face  as  she  imitated  the  cor- 
poral's pronunciation.  The  quaint  humor,  mingled 
with  so  many  singular  traits  prominent  in  her  that 
could  show  itself  at  so  critical  a  moment,  touched  a 
responsive  Irish  chord  in  his  Irish  heart  and  brought 
him  to  terms. 

"For  your  sake,  darlin',  Oi'll  do  't,"  he  said,  in  a 
despairing  voice. 

There  was  scarcely  time  for  him  to  speak  the  words 
— indeed  they  were  whispered  with  his  lips  touching 
her  ear — when  the  three  cavalrymen  rode  up  to  where 
the  two  were. 

"What's  it  all  about,  corporal?"  asked  one  of 
them. 

"I  found  this — this  lady — lying  here.  Her  buggy 
is  broken — she  is  badly  hurt."  The  corporal  spoke 
the  words  haltingly  and  drops  of  sweat  stood  out  on 
his  forehead. 

"Who  is  she?" 

"Well — that's  to  be  found  out  some  other  time. 
One  of  ye'd  better  ride  back  for  an  ambulance  and  a 
surgeon." 

"Never  mind  the  surgeon,"  said  Miss  Baggs, 
faintly. 


130  CHICK  A  MA  VGA. 

"Well,  bring  the  ambulance  anyway,"  said  Ratl- 
gan.  "Ye  can  all  go  back  if  ye  like.  Oi'll  stay  with 
her.     She's  me  own  prisoner." 

"There's  no  need  of  all  going,"  said  the  man  who 
had  spoken.     "I'll  go  myself." 

He  turned  and  rode  away,  while  the  others  dis- 
mounted and  threw  the  reins  of  their  bridles  over  a 
fence  rail.  One  of  them  caught  Bobby  Lee,  who 
was  cropping  the  grass  near  by,  occasionally  looking 
up  as  though  suspicious  that  something  had  hap- 
pened. The  men  loitered  about,  now  and  then 
approaching  to  take  a  look  at  the  prisoner,  but  soon 
turning  away  again,  quite  willing  to  be  free  from  the 
responsibility  which  Corporal  Ratigan  seemed  dis- 
posed to  take  upon  himself. 

"Rats,"  said  Miss  Baggs,  who  was  now  rapidly 
recovering  strength  and  coolness,  "it  will  not  be  long 
before  I  shall  be  separated  from  you.  Before  then  I 
wish  to  thank  you  for  the  kindness,  the  interest,  even 
the  tenderness  with  which  you  have  treated  a  fallen 
enemy.  And  I  wish  to  ask  your  forgiveness  for  the 
deception  I  practiced  on  you  once  when  you  were 
deputed  to  see  me  through  the  lines." 

"What  was  that  compared  with  what  Oi've  done?" 
he  moaned. 

"Do  you  forgive  me?" 

"Oi  do.     But  Oi've  nothing  to  forgive." 

"And,  Rats,  you  have  unconsciously  let  me  know 
that  you — you  feel  more  kindly  toward  me  than " 

"You've  robbed  me  of  me  heart  intirely." 

"Well,  I'm  both  glad  and  sorry.  It  is  delightful  to 
be  loved,  but  sad  to  think  that  your  very  love  must 


CHICK  A  MA  tlCA .  131 

make  you  grieve.  Our  meetings  have  been  few  and 
strange — very  strange, "  she  added  musingly.  "Who 
are  you,  Rats?  I  know  you  are  well-born.  I  can  see 
it  in  every  word  and  motion." 

"Oi'm  second  son  of  Sir  Thomas  Ratigan,  Es- 
quire, of  County  Cavan,  Oirland.  At  his  death  me 
older  brother  succeeded  to  the  estate.  So  I  came  to 
America  to  shift  for  meself.  A  year  ago  Oi  enlisted 
in  the  Union  ranks  and  here  Oi  am.  Oi  wish  to  God 
me  brother  was  in  his  coffin  and  Oi  in  possession  of  the 
estates,  that  Oi  could  give  them  all  to  save  your  life." 

"No,  no.  Rats.  You  area  soldier  and  an  honor- 
able man.  Remember  what  I  have  told  you.  You 
will  do  your  duty  hereafter  as  you  have  done  it  here- 
tofore. Your  words  in  that  respect  are  meaningless. 
Your  sense  of  honor  will  always  triumph  over  your 
sympathy  when  that  sympathy  is  alloyed  with  dis- 
honor. For  this  I  have  conceived  for  you  an  un- 
bounded respect.  Perhaps — were  I  not  so  soon  to 
be " 

"Don't  speak  't;  for  God's  sake  don't  speak  't." 

"Well,  Rats,  we  will  try,  for  the  brief  time  we  shall 
be  together,  to  fix  our  minds  on  a  pleasant  picture. 
Let  us  think  of  that  day  when  the  South  will  be  inde- 
pendent, or  at  least  when  North  and  South  will  be  at 
peace.  This  region,  now  trodden  by  soldiers  wearing 
.the  blue  and  the  gray,  will  be  given  up  to  those  simple 
people  who  till  the  soil.  Instead  of  the  sound  of 
shotted  guns  there  will  be  the  lowing  of  cattle.  In- 
stead of  the  singing  of  minie  balls  there  will  be  the 
songs  of  birds.  There  will  be  peace,  blessed  peace. 
Oh,  if  I  could  only  live  to  see  it.     Then  perhaps  I 


1 3  2  CHICK  A  MA  UGA. 

may  take  you  by  the  hand  and  say  to  you But, 

Rats,  this  can  never  be  for  us.  It  is  only  a  fancy 
picture  I've  drawn  to  relieve  that  terrible  suffering  I 
see  in  your  face.  You've  aged  ten  years  in  as  many 
minutes.  Don't  look  at  me  in  that  dreadful  way,  I 
can't  bear  it." 

The  two  cavalrymen's  backs  were  turned.  They 
were  strolling  toward  the  woods.  Ratigan  put  his 
arms  about  her  and  both  yielded  to  a  long  embrace. 
There  were  no  more  words  spoken.  Words  would 
have  added  nothing  to  what  both  felt.  There  was 
more  pain  and  more  pleasure  concentrated  in  the 
bosom  of  each  than  had  been  there  in  all  the  years 
they  had  lived. 


XIII. 

"turned  over." 

I^^HERE  was  a  rattling  of  wheels  on  the  soft  road, 
.  and  looking  up,  Ratigan  saw  the  messenger  return- 
ing, followed  by  an  ambulance.  Driving  to  Miss 
Baggs,  who  was  still  lying  in  the  grass,  the  driver 
backed  it  up  to  her,  while  the  messenger  dismounted 
and  opened  the  door.  The  cavalrymen  stood  ready 
to  lift  the  prisoner  into  the  vehicle.  But  Miss  Baggs 
waved  them  all  away  except  the  corporal,  and  taking 
his  hand  rose  to  her  feet  and  stood  for  a  moment  sup- 
ported by  him.  The  effort  was  too  much  for  her ;  her 
head  fell  on  his  shoulder,  and  for  a  moment  she  lost 
consciousness.  Ratigan  took  her  off  her  feet  and, 
lifting  her  into  the  ambulance,  laid  her  on  the  cush- 
ions. 

"Oi'll  ride  at  the  foot,"  he  said  to  the  others. 
"One  of  ye  lead  me  horse." 

The  men  were  relieved  at  this  proposition  ;  for  the 
care  of  a  woman  in  such  a  condition  was  by  no  means 
pleasing,  and  they  feared  she  might  die  before  they 
could  get  her  into  camp,  and  turn  her  over  to  some 
one  else.  Ratigan  sat  at  the  foot  of  the  vehicle,  with 
his  feet  on  the  step,  while  the  men,  seeing  that  their 
prisoner  was  in  no  condition  to  escape,  besides  being 
guarded  by  the  corporal,  gave  her  no  especial  care, 
riding  together  some  twenty  paces  ahead. 

133 


134  ChIcKamaVGa. 

"Darlin*,"  whispered  Ratigan,  as  soon  as  they 
were  out  of  hearing. 

She  opened  her  eyes.  He  leaned  forward  and 
caught  one  of  her  hands.     It  was  cold  as  ice. 

"Ah,  Rats,  where  am  I?  Where  are  you  taking 
me?" 

"Don't  ask  me,"  he  answered  with  a  groan.  "Are 
ye  better?" 

"Oh,  yes.  I'm  not  badly  hurt.  I'm  bruised,  and 
I've  had  a  shock.     But  what  matters  it  how  I  am?" 

"If  it  were  only  night,  ye  might  slip  out  and 
away." 

"But  it  isn't  night.  Rats,  and  you  are  guarding 
me." 

"A  fine  guard  I'd  make  if  there  were  a  chance  for 
ye  to  get  out  of  this." 

She  gave  a  groan  as  the  driver  carelessly  passed 
over  a  rut. 

"You  wouldn't  see  me  go,  when  your  duty  is — to 
keep  me?  would  you,  Rats?"  she  asked  languidly  and 
mechanically. 

"Not  I.  I'd  shut  me  eyes  as  tight  as  iver  I 
could." 

They  came  to  the  place  where  each  had  succes- 
sively emerged  from  the  camp  through  which  Ratigan 
had  followed  her  before  daylight,  and  found  the  road 
lined  with  soldiers,  whose  curiosity  brought  them  there 
to  see  the  woman  who  had  succeeded  in  breaking 
through  a  whole  chain  of  guards.  They  had  all  heard 
of  the  exploit,  and  crowded  around  tlie  ambulance  as 
it  passed,  but  were  kept  away  by  the  guards  in  attend- 
ance, who  dropped  back  to  the  sides  and  rear.  This 
prevented  any  further  conversation   between  Ratigan 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  135 

and  Miss  Baggs,  except  an  occasional  whisper;  but  the 
corporal  managed  to  keep  her  hand  in  his  under  a  blan- 
ket, unobserved.  At  last  the  ambulance  pulled  up  be- 
fore the  headquarters  of  the  division  whose  camp  they 
had  entered,  and  Ratigan  suddenly  became  conscious 
of  the  fact  that  he  must  turn  his  prisoner  over  to  others, 
doubtless  to  be  dealt  with  summarily,  for  he  well  knew 
the  case  would  naturally  receive  prompt  attention. 

"Oh,  darlin',"  he  exclaimed,  "Oi  must  part  with 
ye.     What'U  Oi  do?" 

"Keep  steady,  Rats.  You  couldn't  help  it.  It 
was  fated.  OrratherHeintended.it."  She  cast  her 
eyes  mournfully,  but  with  the  light  of  faith  in  them, 
upward.  "I  only  regret  that  my  people  will  receive 
no  benefit  in  my  death." 

An  officer,  with  a  captain's  shoulder  straps,  came  out 
from  headquarters  and  surveyed  the  ambulance.  He 
was  a  dapper  little  fellow,  fat  and  red-faced. 

"Who've  you  got  there?"  he  asked  of  Ratigan. 

"A  lady,  sir." 

"The  woman  who  ran  the  guards  last  night?" 

*'0i  captured  her  on  the  road  below." 

"H'm.  The  guard  duty  of  this  division  is  in  a  fine 
condition  when  a  woman  can  run  a  whole  chain  of 
sentinels.     Get  her  out  o'  that." 

"She's  badly  hurt,  captain,"  said  Ratigan,  who  had 
stepped  down  onto  the  ground  and  saluted. 

"I  can  alight,"  said  Miss  Baggs  feebly.  And  get- 
ting as  best  she  could  to  the  door  of  the  ambulance, 
Ratigan  helped  her  out.  She  looked  faint,  but  stood 
by  the  aid  of  the  corporal's  arm. 

"Take  her  in  to  the  general,"  said  the  little  cap- 
tain;  "he  wants  to  see  her." 


136  CHICKAMA  UGA. 

As  the  tent  was  an  ordinary  wall  tent,  there  was  no 
great  room  in  it.  Miss  Baggs  went  inside,  while  the 
corporal  stood  directly  outside  with  his  hand  on  the 
tent  pole. 

"What's  she  been  up  to,  corporal?"  asked  the  gen- 
eral, a  man  who  seemed  to  realize  perfectly  the 
importance  attaching  to  his  position. 

"How  do  Oi  know,  general?  Oi  simply  chased 
her  and  caught  her." 

"Have  you  anything  to  say  for  yourself?"  asked 
the  general  of  the  prisoner. 

"Nothing." 

"What  were  you  doing,  corporal,  when  you  gave 
chase?" 

"Guarding  the  telegraph  line." 

"And  what  was  she  doing;  taking  off  dispatches?" 

"Oi  didn't  see  her  doen  't,  general." 

"I  must  have  you  searched,"  said  the  general  to 
the  prisoner.  Then  he  added,  somewhat  hesitatingly, 
"it's  rather  awkward  not  having  a  woman  in  camp." 

"I  will  relieve  you  of  the  necessity,"  said  the  pris- 
oner with  dignity;  and  putting  her  hand  into  her 
pocket  she  drew  forth  a  bundle  of  papers  which  she 
handed  to  him. 

"What  are  these?"  asked  the  surprised  commander. 

"Copies  of  intercepted  telegrams." 

The  general  uttered  an  exclamation,  and  taking  the 
papers  ran  them  over  with  his  eye. 

He  looked  up  at  the  woman,  who,  save  for  the  pallor 
occasioned  by  her  fall  from  the  collapsed  buggy,  stood 
apparently  unmoved.  There  was  admiration  in  the 
eye  of  the  man  who  gazed  at  her.     He  could  not  but 


CHICKAMA  UGA.  I37 

wonder  at  the  daring  that  had  enabled  her  to  remain 
within  the  Union  lines  sufficiently  long  to  capture 
dispatches  bearing  dates  from  June  to  the  middle  of 
September;  he  was  astonished  at  the  coolness  with 
which  she  handed  him  documents  that  would  warrant 
his  hanging  her  to  a  tree  without  a  moment's  delay; 
and  above  all  there  was  about  her  a  divine  conscious- 
ness of  having  done  a  duty,  a  look  of  triumph  under 
defeat  that  compelled  his  reverence,  as  well  as  his 
admiration. 

"Are  you  aware,"  he  said,  "that  with  these  dis- 
patches in  your  possession,  and  beyond  our  lines,  you 
would  hold  this  army  at  your  mercy?" 

"I  am." 

"And  that  captured  with  them  on  your  person  your 
life  is  forfeited?" 

"Certainly." 

There  are  people  who  cannot  brook  a  steady  stand 
in  one  who  may  be  naturally  expected  to  break  down 
in  their  presence.  The  general  was  one  of  these.  In 
proportion  as  he  admired  her  firmness,  was  his  desire 
to  force  her  to  show  some  giving  way.  He  did  not 
analyze  his  feelings  and  attribute  his  desire  to  any 
such  cause;  he  yielded  to  it  without  realizing  that  the 
cause  existed. 

"The  natural  method  of  procedure  in  this  case," 
he  said,  looking  at  her  sternly,  "is  for  me  to  report 
your  capture  and  the  circumstances  attending  it  to 
headquarters.  Do  you  remember  the  case  of  the  two 
Confederate  spies  captured  when  this  army  was  in 
front  of  Murfreesboro,  during  the  past  summer?" 

"I  have  heard  something  of  it." 


1 3  8  CHICK  A  MA  UGA . 

"Two  Confederate  officers  came  into  our  lines  in 
United  States  uniform,  one  of  them  bearing  forged 
papers  as  inspector-general  in  the  United  States  army. 
They  left  the  colonel,  whose  lines  they  first  entered, 
at  evening,  to  go  on  their  tour  of  inspection.  Sus- 
pecting something  wrong,  they  were  recalled  and 
detained  while  the  case  was  reported.  Word  came 
back  that  there  were  no  such  officers  in  the  United 
States  army;  that  they  were  doubtless  spies,  and  the 
colonel  was  directed  to  try  them  by  "drum-head" 
court-martial  and  hang  them  at  daylight  the  next 
morning,  or  instructed  to  that  effect."* 

While  the  general  spoke  he  watched  his  prisoner 
closely. 

"But  how  does  this  concern  me,  general?"  she 
asked  calmly. 

A  slight  color  came  to  his  cheek  at  this  failure  to 
impress  her. 

"I  will  tell  you,  since  you  do  not  seem  in  a  state  of 
mind  to  readily  draw  conclusions.  I  report  your  case 
to  headquarters.  Word  comes  back  to  try  you  by 
'drum-head'  court-martial  and  hang  you  to-morrow 
morning." 

"Well?" 

"Well,  that  is  the  end  of  the  story." 

There  was  silence  for  a  few  moments,  while  they 
regarded  each  other. 

"It  is  «^/  the  end  of  the  story,  general.     The  story 

of  a  life   has  no  end.     Death  is  but  a  transition.     I 

shall  pass  through   it,  as  a  chrysalis  is  transformed. 

It  pleases  the  Great  Commander  to  assign  me  a  fruit- 

*  A  historical  fact. 


CHICK  A  MA  VGA .  139 

less  task.  It  is  not  for  me  to  ask  why.  I  am  but  one 
of  His  soldiers,  fighting  with  my  brothers — for  my 
people." 

She  had  conquered.  There  was  something  so  forci- 
ble in  her  words,  something  so  truly  grand  in  her 
manner,  that  the  man  who  would  break  her  spirit 
desisted.  He  regarded  her  admiringly  and  was 
silent. 

"All  I  ask,  general,"  she  said  presently,  seeing 
that  he  did  not  speak,  "is  that  there  be  no  greater 
delay  than  necessary.  Now  I  have  a  strength  which 
may  be  worn  away  by  long  waiting,  with  death  staring 
me  in  the  face." 

Still  the  officer  did  not  speak.  He  was  thinking — 
thinking  how  he  could  get  rid  of  so  unpleasant  a  duty 
as  the  trial  and  execution  of  this  splendid  woman. 
He  feared  that  should  he  report  her  capture  to  head- 
quarters, he  would  get  the  same  reply  as  in  the  case 
he  had  cited. 

"/will  not  harm  you,"  he  said  presently.  "Some 
one  else  must  take  the  responsibility  of  this  complica- 
tion of  death  and  a  woman." 

"It  does  not  matter  who  does  the  work,  so  long  as 
it  must  be  done." 

"Perhaps  not  to  you.  It  matters  a  great  deal  to 
me.  My  hands  are  clean;  I  don't  care  to  stain 
them." 

While  this  conversation  was  going  on  Corporal 
Ratigan  was  listening  and  observing  the  speakers 
with  a  palpitating  heart.  There  was  something  so  cold 
cut  in  the  general's  tones  that  the  corporal  felt  a 
repugnance  at  his  prisoner  being  in  his  especial  keep- 


I40  CHICK  AM  A  UGA. 

ing.  He  preferred  that  she  should  be  sent  to  some 
one  else,  and  was  relieved  when  he  announced  his 
intention  to  shift  the  responsibility.  Besides,  the 
corporal  hoped  that  he  would  himself  be  intrusted 
with  her  keeping  until  she  should  arrive  at  some  camp 
where  the  commander  would  be  willing  to  receive  her. 

"Shall  Oi  take  her  to  headquarters,  general?"  he 
asked, 

"Ah,  my  man,"  said  the  general,  as  though  awak- 
ened from  a  reverie,  "are  you  here?  I  had  forgotten 
you." 

"Oi  can  conduct  her  to  headquarters  if  you  desire 
it,  general." 

"I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  receiving  suggestions 
from  my  brigade  or  regimental  commanders,  much 
less  a  corporal." 

Ratigan  saw  tliat  he  had  made  a  mistake  and  said 
nothing.  The  general  regarded  him  with  his  shrewd 
eyes.  It  was  plain  to  him  that  the  man  was  inter- 
ested in  his  prisoner. 

"Corpora],  you  may  go  to  your  camp." 

"Yes,  sir." 

The  corporal  brought  his  hand  up  in  salute.  His 
soldierly  deference  was  all  that  he  could  give  to  the 
general;  his  heart,  his  eyes,  were  all  for  the  pr'soner. 
He  stood  for  a  moment  with  his  hand  at  his  cap, 
while  his  glance,  full  of  meaning,  full  of  despair, 
rested  on  Miss  Baggs.  She  returned  it  with  one  of 
encouragement.  The  weaker  physical  woman  was 
supporting  the  stronger  physical  man. 

"Well,  corporal,  are  you  going?" 

"I  am,  sir." 


CHICKAMA  UGA.  141 

Yet  for  a  moment  the  corporal  could  not  withdraw 
his  eyes.  The  order  was  imperative;  the  general  was 
waiting.  At  last  he  turned  abruptly,  and  strode  away 
rapidly  without  once  looking  back. 

"Orderly,"  called  the  general  to  a  man  standing 
near,  "take  this  woman  to  the  ambulance." 

As  Miss  Baggs  passed  out  the  eyes  of  the  two  were 
fixed  again  on  each  other.  While  the  general  did  not 
use  words,  he  could  not  resist  a  last  attempt  with  his 
presence,  his  masterful  countenance,  his  piercing  eyes, 
to  overawe  his  prisoner.  She  met  that  gaze  firmly, 
unflinchingly,  till  she  was  without  the  tent,  then  with 
a  final  glance  of  contempt  she  turned  and  walked 
toward  the  ambulance. 

The  general  called  her  back. 

"You  do  not  seem  well  satisfied  with  my  treatment 
of  you,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  in  which  there  was  some- 
thing of  sarcasm.     "We  soldiers  must  do  our  duty." 

"It  is  not  your  doing  your  duty,  general,  that  fails 
to  win  my  respect;  it  is  that  you  have  not  the  manli- 
ness to  do  it  yourself,  but  must  needs  put  it  upon 
some  one  else." 

Again  the  two  pairs  of  eyes  met  and  clashed.  The 
victory  was  with  the  woman.  The  general  lowered 
his  to  the  ground. 

"You  may  go,"  he  said. 

As  soon  as  she  was  gone  he  went  to  a  tent  where 
there  were  writing  materials,  and  wrote  a  note,  which 
he  sealed  and  addressed.  Giving  it  to  the  little  cap- 
tain he  directed  him  to  send  it,  with  the  prisoner  and 
the  dispatches  captured  on  her,  to  the  officer  whose 
name  was  on  the  envelope. 


XIV. 

AN    UNWELCOME    PRISONER. 

IT  was  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning.  Colonel  May- 
nard  pushed  back  the  tent  flap,  intending  to  step 
outside  and  go  to  the  mess  tent  for  breakfast.  The 
brightness  of  the  morning  seemed  reflected  in  his  coun- 
tenance. His  step  was  firm,  his  bearing  full  of 
youthful,  manly  vigor.  He  had  been  rapidly  gaining 
the  confidence  of  his  officers,  and  was  coming  to  be 
admired  and  beloved  by  his  men.  All  misgivings  as 
to  his  fitness  for  his  responsible  position  had  melted 
away.  Colonel  Mark  Maynard  was  the  man  most  to 
be  envied  of  those  no  older  than  himself  in  the  Army 
of  the  Cumberland. 

He  had  scarcely  passed  from  his  tent  when,  glancing 
down  the  road  beside  which  his  camp  was  located,  his 
attention  was  arrested  by  an  ambulance  coming  slowly 
along  driven  by  a  man  in  a  soldier's  blouse  and  smok- 
ing a  short  clay  pipe.  On  either  side  rode  a  cavalry- 
man. The  colonel  paused  to  watch  the  coming 
vehicle  and  its  attendants.  Had  it  not  been  guarded 
he  would  have  supposed  it  to  contain  a  sick  soldier 
going  to  hospital.  As  it  was,  it  must  either  hold  an 
officer  of  high  rank  or  a  sick  or  wounded  prisoner. 
Whatever  it  contained,  there  came  to  the  man  watch- 
ing it  an  uncomfortable  feeling  that  it  was  in  some 
way  a  link   between   himself  and   misfortune.      The 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  1 43 

bright,  happy  look  of  a  moment  before  disappeared,  to 
be  replaced  by  a  troubled  expression,  though  he 
could  not  have  given  a  reason  for  foreboding.  When 
the  ambulance  stopped  opposite  his  tent  he  muttered 
with  a  knitted  brow: 

"What  does  this  mean?" 

One  of  the  attendants  dismounted,  went  to  the  door 
of  the  ambulance,  opened  it,  and  handed  out  a  woman, 
who  descended  to  the  ground  with  some  difficulty,  as 
though  in  a  weakened  condition.  The  two  then  came 
directly  to  where  Colonel  Maynard  was  standing. 

The  woman  was  attired  in  a  striped  calico  dress; 
her  head  and  face  were  bare.  The  colonel  knew  at  a 
glance  that  he  had  seen  her  before,  but  could  not  tell 
where.  She  walked  slowly,  for  she  seemed  scarcely 
able  to  drag  herself  along,  and  he  had  time  to  study 
her  features  as  she  came  on.  The  two  stopped  before 
him;  the  soldier  saluted,  and  drawning  an  envelope 
from  his  belt  handed  it  to  Colonel  Maynard.  The 
colonel  took  it  without  looking  at  it.  He  was  still 
studying  the  features  of  the  woman. 

"A  communication   from   General  ,  colonel," 

said  the  man  who  handed  him  the  paper.  As  the 
soldier  spoke  Colonel  Maynard  recognized  the  woman 
he  had  met  at  Mrs.  P'ain's.  His  hand  trembled  as  he 
grasped  the  envelope  and  tore  it  open. 

Headquarters  Division, 

Army  of  the  Cumberland, 

In  the  Field,   September  — ,    1862. 
Colonel  Mark  Maynard, 

Commanding th  Cavalry  Brigade. 

Colonel :  I  send  you  a  voman  who  this  morning  was 
caught  tampering  with   the    telegraph  line,  and  who 


i44  CHICKAMAUGA. 

has  evidently  been  taking  off  our  dispatches.  Being 
in  transit  and  about  to  move  on  this  morning,  I  take 
the  liberty  of  sending  her  to  you  under  guard,  with  the 
suggestion  that  you  do  with  her  as  seems  best  to  you. 
I  have  use  for  the  limited  number  of  men  present  for 
duty  on  my  escort,  and  this  is  my  apology  for  trou- 
bling you.  Yours  is  the  nearest  command  to  which  I 
can  send  her. 

I  am  very  respectfully 

Your  ob't  serv't, 


Brig.  Gen. 

Colonel  Maynard  read  the  missive  over  twice, 
slowly,  without  looking  up.  He  had  not  read  a 
dozen  words  before  he  knew  that  he  held  in  his  pos- 
session one  whose  life  was  forfeited  as  his  own  life 
had  been  forfeited  to  the  Confederates  a  year  before. 
His  keeping  his  eyes  on  the  paper  was  to  gain  time — 
to  avoid  speaking  when  his  utterance  was  choked  with 
a  strange  emotion.  His  thoughts  were  far  away.  He 
stood  on  the  bank  of  the  Tennessee  River,  below 
Chattanooga.  It  was  in  the  gray  of  the  morning. 
He  saw  a  skiff  tied  to  the  shore.  He  jumped  down 
to  seize  it  and  found  himself  among  a  group  of  Con- 
federate soldiers.  Personating  a  member  of  General 
Bragg's  staff,  he  commanded  them  to  row  him  across 
the  river.  They  started  to  obey.  As  they  left  the 
shore,  suddenly  a  boat  swung  around  Moccasin  Point. 
It  was  full  of  armed  men.  He  was  taken  back  to 
Chattanooga,  tried,  and  condemned  to  be  hanged  for 
a  spy. 

All  this  passed  before  his  mind's  eye  as  he  stood 
pretending  to   study  the   communication  before  him. 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  145 

Not  this  bare  statement  of  it,  but  each  detail,  each 
feeling  of  hope,  fear,  despair,  as  they  rapidly  suc- 
ceeded each  other  from  the  moment  of  his  capture 
till  his  escape  and  safe  return  to  the  Union  lines. 

Looking  up  at  last  with  an  expression  of  commiser- 
ation which  surprised  the  prisoner,  he  said: 

"Madam,  will  you  please  accept  my  heartfelt  sym- 
pathies." 

Miss  Baggs,  who  had  already  recognized  Colonel 
Maynard,  simply  bowed  her  head  in  acknowledgment 
without  speaking,  but  fixing  her  large  dark  eyes  upon 
his.  When  placed  in  a  similar  position  Maynard  had 
met  his  enemy's  glance  with  affected  coolness,  in  a 
vain  hope  of  deception.  Not  so  the  woman  before 
him.  The  time  for  deception  had  passed  with  her. 
She  was  a  Charlotte  Corday,  knowing  that  the  guillo- 
tine awaited  her — a  martyr  in  whose  eyes  gleamed  the 
divine  light  of  a  willing  sacrifice  to  a  cause  she  be- 
lieved to  be  sacred. 

The  colonel  spoke  again  : 

"Madam,"  he  said,  "it  is  my  duty  to  report  your 
case  to  my  commanding  officer  for  transmission  to  the 
headquarters  of  this  army.  There  is  a  little  house 
across  the  road;  if  you  are  able  to  go  there,  you  will 
be  more  comfortable  while  we  are  awaiting  the 
reply." 

"As  you  like,  colonel." 

"Perhaps  it  would  be  better  to  use  the  ambu- 
lance." 

"I  can  walk.      I  would  prefer  it." 

"Will  you  accept  of  my  assistance?" 

She  took  his  offered  arm  and  the  two  walked  slowly 


i  4  ^  CHICK  A  MA  VGA . 

toward  a  farmhouse  a  few  hundred  yards  distant.  As 
the  colonel  passed  a  sentry  he  directed  him  to  have 
the  officer  of  the  guard  summoned  and  sent  to  him. 
On  reaching  the  house  and  mounting  the  few  steps 
that  led  up  to  the  door,  they  were  received  by  a 
farmer's  wife  and  ushered  into  a  small  sitting-room. 
Bowing  to  the  prisoner,  Colonel  Maynard  stepped 
outside  to  instruct  the  guard.  It  was  not  essential 
that  he  should  hasten,  but  he  did  not  feel  equal  to  an 
interview. 

After  seeing  a  sentinel  posted  on  each  side  of  the 
house  Maynard  turned  to  go  to  his  tent.  He  was 
drawn  by  some  unaccountable  instinct  to  look  once 
more  at  the  abode  of  his  prisoner.  She  was  gazing 
out  at  him,  with  a  pair  of  eyes  melancholy,  unresist- 
ing, full  of  resignation. 

What  fiend  had  suddenly  thrown  this  beautiful 
woman,  this  queen  of  martyrs,  into  his  keeping;  with 
death  staring  'her  in  the  face,  and  he,  perhaps,  to 
inflict  the  penalty?  Why,  if  he  must  suffer  this  turn- 
ing of  the  tables  by  Fate,  could  not  the  victim  have 
been  a  man?  some  coarse  creature  who  would  die 
like  a  brute?  And  why  had  it  not  come  upon  him 
before  love  had  introduced  him  to  that  instinctive 
delicacy,  that  gentleness,  those  finer  heart  impulses  of 
woman  ? 

"OGod!"  he  murmured,  "suppose — suppose  she 
were — Laura?" 

He  could  not  bear  to  look,  and  could  not  turn 
away.  For  a  few  moments  the  two  gazed  upon  each 
other,  while  the  woman's  natural  feminine  discern- 
ment told  her  that  she  was  pitied;   told  her  something 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  1 4 1 

of  what  Maynard  suffered  ;  that  her  enemy  was  really 
her  friend.  She  gave  him  a  faint  smile  in  recogni- 
tion. 

There  was  something  in  the  smile  that  was  even 
harder  for  him  to  endure  than  had  she  shed  a  tear. 
Hers  was  a  winning  smile,  and  her  position  was  so 
desperate.  She  was  so  brave,  so  ready  to  sacrifice  for 
her  struggling  people.  She  bore  her  trial  with  such 
gentleness,  yet  with  such  firmness. 

She  was  a  woman,  and  she  tniist  die. 

He  turned  almost  fiercely  and  strode  back  to  his 
tent.  Reaching  it,  he  found  the  man  who  had  brought 
the  prisoner,  waiting  for  him.  The  soldier  saluted 
and  handed  him  another  envelope. 

"Why  did  you  not  give  me  this  with  the  other?" 
asked  Maynard,  surprised. 

"I  handed  it  to  you,  colonel,  but  you  did  not  see 
it." 

Maynard  stared  at  the  man  without  making  any 
reply.  He  had  been  preoccupied,  deprived  of  his 
ordinary  faculties.  Opening  the  envelope,  he  took 
out  a  small  bundle  of  papers,  on  the  back  of  which  was 
endorsed : 

"  Intercepted  dispatches  found  on  the  person  of  Eliza- 
beth Baggs,  captured  September  — th,  1863." 

Without  looking  at  their  contents  he  dismissed  the 
man  who  had  brought  them,  and  turning,  went  into 
his  tent. 

The  hours  were  long  while  he  waited  the  return  of 
the  messenger  he  sent  to  report  the  presence  of  the 
prisoner  at  his  camp.     He  hoped  that  he  would  be 


14^  CHICKAMAUGA. 

directed  to  send  her  forward.  Why  had  he  not  thought 
to  do  so,  without  first  reporting  her  capture?  Such 
a  course  would  have  been  no  shirking  of  a  duty,  and 
they  would  likely  have  kept  her  and  attended  to  her 
case  at  headquarters.  Now  they  might  leave  her  with 
him.  They  might  order  him  to  try,  and  execute  her. 
He  ground  the  heel  of  his  boot  into  the  soil  and  cursed 
his  want  of  forethought. 

"Orderly!"  he  cried.  "Mount  quick!  Ride  after 
the  courier  who  went  to  headquarters — No.  Never 
mind;   it  is  too  late;   you  couldn't  overtake  him." 

It  was  not  too  late  for  a  courier  to  overtake  the  one 
who  had  gone,  and  Maynard  knew  it.  He  had  sud- 
denly changed  his  mind.  He  had  a  vague  dread  at 
sending  the  prisoner  away.  While  she  was  with  him 
perhaps  some  way  might  be  found  to  save  her.  In  the 
hands  of  those  who  were  not  especially  interested  in 
her,  her  doom  was  sealed.  No,  he  was  not  prepared 
to  part  with  her. 

He  paced  back  and  forth  in  front  of  his  tent  like  a 
sentry  on  post.  The  members  of  his  staff  saw  that 
tliere  was  something  unusual  weighing  on  his  naturally 
buoyant  spirits,  and  left  him  to  himself,  not  address- 
ing him  on  any  matter,  except  of  moment.  It  was 
necessary  that  his  report  should  go  first  to  division, 
then  to  corps,  and  then  to  general  headquarters,  and 
likely  the  answer  would  come  back  by  the  same  rounds 
of  the  military  step-ladder.  And  all  this  time  he  was 
obliged  to  wait,  chafing  like  a  caged  lion. 

Miss  Baggs'  capture  came  at  a  very  inopportune 
moment  for  any  chance  there  might  otherwise  be  for 
mercy.      Following  a  retreating  enemy,  the  Army  of 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  1 49 

the  Cumberland  had  acquired  a  dangerous  confidence. 
The  nature  of  its  own  offensive  operations  had  ren- 
dered essential  a  separation  of  the  three  different  corps 
of  which  it  was  composed.  Bragg  suddenly  had 
taken  a  stand  with  his  whole  army  at  Lafayette, 
whence  he  could  easily  strike  eith-er  one  of  the  Union 
corps  in  detail.  A  dread  of  disaster  was  coming  to 
those  Union  generals,  who,  with  a  proper  miliiary 
foresight,  took  in  the  situation.  Besides,  it  was  known 
that  the  Confederates  were  being  heavily  reinforced. 
Instead  of  the  previous  blind  confidence  a  cold  wave 
of  solicitude  crept  over  the  Army  of  the  Cumberland. 

It  was  noon  before  the  courier  sent  to  announce  the 
capture  of  Miss  Baggs  rode  up  to  Colonel  Maynard's 
headquarters  and  handed  him  a  dispatch.  It  was  as 
Maynard  feared.  He  was  informed  that  in  the  pres- 
ent exigency  the  matter  could  not  be  given  attention 
at  general  headquarters,  but  it  was  deemed  important 
to  deal  summarily  with  spies,  be  they  male  or  female. 
He  was  therefore  ordered  to  convene  a  "drum-head" 
court-martial,  try  the  prisoner,  and  if  found  guilty  ex- 
ecute the  sentence,  whatever  it  might  be,  without 
delay. 

When  Colonel  Maynard  read  this  order  every  ves- 
tige of  color  left  his  face.  He  could  not  believe  the 
evidence  of  his  senses.  Was  it  possible  that  he,  Mark 
Maynard,  once  condemned  to  be  executed  for  a  spy, 
was  called  upon  to  superintend  the  trial  and  the  exe- 
cution which  would  doubtless  follow,  of  another,  for 
the  same  offense,  and  that  other  a  woman?  Yet  there 
were  the  instructions  duly  signed  "By  order,"  and 
only   one   meaning    could    be   attached.      He   held    it 


i  5  o  CHICK  A  MA  VGA . 

listlessly  in  his  hand  for  a  while,  and  then  handed  it 
to  his  chief  of  staff. 

"At  what  hour  shall  the  court  come  together, 
colonel?" 

"I  presume  at  once.  The  order  so  directs;  doesn't 
it?" 

"How  about  the  witnesses?" 

"You  will  have  to  send  to  the  source  from  which 
the  prisoner  came  to  us." 

"In  that  event  I  will  fix  the  hour  for  three  o'clock 
this  afternoon.  The  judge  advocate  will  require  a 
little  time  to  prepare  the  charges  and  specifications." 

"As  you  think  best." 

Colonel  Maynard  turned  and  went  into  his  tent. 
Hours  passed  and  he  did  not  come  out.  "The  colo- 
nel is  in  trouble,"  said  one.  "They  say  he  was  once 
in  the  secret  service  himself,"  said  another.  "Then 
he  knows  how  it  is  to  be  in  such  a  fix  as  the  woman 
up  in  that  house."  "He's  been  there."  "It  was  at 
Chattanooga  a  year  ago.  They  say  he  brought  the 
news  of  Bragg's  advance  into  Kentucky."  "Well,  if 
he  has  to  execute  a  sentence  of  death  on  a  spy,  and 
that  spy  a  woman,  I  wouldn't  be  in  his  boots  for  the 
shoulder  straps  of  a  major  general." 

And  so  the  comments  went  on  while  the  colonel 
kept  his  tent  and  Miss  Baggs  peered  dreamily  out  of 
the  window,  watched  by  guards. 


XV. 

TRIED. 

WHEN  Corporal  Ratigan  left  Miss  Baggs  with  the 
general,  to  whom  he  had  unwillingly  conducted 
her,  he  was  in  such  a  condition  of  mind  that  he  forgot 
all  about  his  horse  and  started  to  walk  toward  his 
camp.  When  a  cavalryman  shows  such  evidence  of 
absence  of  mind,  it  is  a  sure  sign  that  he  is  in  a  con- 
dition bordering  on  insanity.  Ratigan  walked  some 
distance  before  it  occurred  to  him  that  he  was  pursu- 
ing an  unusual  means  of  locomotion;  then  he  turned 
back  to  get  his  horse.  When  he  arrived  at  the  place 
from  which  he  had  departed.  Miss  Baggs  had  gone. 
Mounting,  he  rode  to  his  own  camp,  and  upon  reach- 
ing there  he  first  went  directly  to  his  tent ;  then,  shun- 
ning his  comrades,  stole  away  to  a  wood  and  threw 
himself  on  his  face  in  the  shade  of  a  large  tree,  and 
gave  himself  up  to  grief. 

It  is  difificult  to  recognize  in  this  lugubrious  person 
the  man  who  half  a  dozen  hours  before  was  dashing 
on  in  a  mad  chase  after  the  very  woman  whose  capture 
now  so  distressed  him.  But  the  transitions  of  war  are 
rapid  and  unexpected.  Its  lights  are  brighter,  its 
shadows  far  deeper  than  in  ordinary  life.  Then  to 
the  corporal  had  come  that  greatest  of  all  complica- 
tions, a  moving  of  the  luiman  heart.  For  months  he 
had  dreamed  of  Betsy  Baggs ;  he  had  found  himself 


1 5  2  CHICK  A  MA  UGA . 

thinking  of  her  in  his  waking  hours,  on  the  march, 
on  picket,  amid  the  roaring  of  guns.  He  had  sought 
to  banish  that  picture  of  her  standing  in  her  buggy 
after  having  duped  him,  which  had  so  long  haunted 
him,  and  had  failed.  But  Corporal  Ratigan  had 
never  been  in  love,  and  was  entirely  unacquainted 
with  the  symptoms.  Suddenly  circumstances  had 
brought  about  an  interview  with  her  under  a  strange 
situation.  Then  he  had  discovered  what  it  was  that 
had  been  tormenting  him  so  long. 

The  corporal,  lying  on  his  face,  unmindful  of  the 
sweet  rustling  of  the  leaves  above  him,  his  mind 
tossed  hither  and  thither  by  Miss  Baggs  of  the  past. 
Miss  Baggs  of  the  present,  Miss  Baggs  whom  he  had 
been  instrumental  in  capturing,  and  Miss  Baggs 
treated  as  a  spy,  was  not  the  soldier  he  had  been. 
From  a  man  of  brass,  he  had  become  a  man  of  clay. 

"O  Lord,  O  Lord,"  he  moaned,  "if  they'd  organ- 
ized corps  of  lovely  women  to  be  attached  to  each 
division  of  the  army  and  the  enemy,  there'd  be  no  more 
fighting  for  either  cause.  Each  would  fight  the  other 
about  the  women  and  the  cause  would  have  to  take 
care  of  itself." 

"Corporal  Ratigan!" 

The  corporal  put  his  hands  to  his  ears  and  groaned. 

''Corporal  Ratigan,  I  say." 

Still  the  corporal  would  not  hear.  He  knew  that 
some  one  was  approaching,  for  whether  he  would  or 
not  he  could  not  help  hearing  his  name  called,  each 
time  more  distinctly.  Presently  a  soldier  stood  look- 
ing down  at  him. 

"Corporal  Ratigan,"  he  said,  "ye'r  wanted  at  the 


chickamauga:  i53 

headquarters  of  Colonel  Maynard,  commanding  the 
th  brigade." 

"What's  that  for?"  asked  the  corporal,  without 
changing  his  position. 

"Witness  for  court-martial." 

WHiy  will  people  ask  questions  explanatory  of  dis- 
agreeable events  or  misfortunes,  the  answers  to  which 
they  know  well  enough  already?  And  why,  when  the 
information  comes,  will  they  deny  its  truth? 

"If  ye  say  that  again,  Conover,  Oi'll  brake  every 
bone  in  ye'r  body." 

"What's  the  mather  wid  ye,  corporal?" 

Ratigan  by  this  time  had  got  up  from  the  ground, 
where  he  was  lying,  and  approached  his  tormentor. 

"Don't  ask  me,  Conover,  me  boy." 

"Why,  Rats,  ye're  looken  as  if  ye  were  goen  to  be 
tried  ye'rself." 

"Tried?  Oi'm  to  suffer  on  the  rack  as  one  o'  me 
ancesters  did  once  in  the  old  Tower  in  I>unnon." 

"How's  that?" 

"Oh,  don't  ask  me,  don't  ask  me.  Oi  can  niver 
endure  this  trial.     Oi'll  doi,  Oi'll  doi." 

"Come,  brace  ye'rself,  me  boy.  Ye're  in  no 
condition  to  be  goen  before  a  court.  What  is  it  all, 
anyway?" 

"What  is  it  all?  A  woman  to  be  tried  for  her 
life.  And  I  caught  her.  Oi'm  to  bear  witness 
against  her.  O  God,  if  they'd  let  me  off  by  tying  me 
up  by  the  thumbs,  bucking  and  gagging,  carrying  a 
log  on  me  shoulders,  drummed  out  o'  camp  with 
shaved  head  and  feathers  behind  me  ears,  0  Lord, 
O  Lord,  Oi'll  doi,  Oi'll  doi." 


154  'CHICK A  MA  UGA . 

The  corporal  mounted  his  horse  and  was  soon  jog- 
ging along  at  a  snail's  pace  toward  Colonel  Maynard's 
headquarters.  There  was  a  problem  in  his  brain 
which  he  was  revolving.  It  was  the  question  of  leav- 
ing the  case  of  the  United  States  versus  Elizabeth 
Biggs  without  a  witness.  This,  of  course,  meant 
desertion.  Desertion  meant,  if  caught,  being  riddled 
by  a  file  of  his  own  comrades.  This  did  not  impress 
Ratigan  so  unfavorably,  considering  the  terrible  con- 
dition of  mind  he  was  in,  but  he  doubted  if  this 
course  would  save  Miss  Baggs.  If  his  desertion,  even 
should  it  result  in  his  own  ignominous  death,  would 
save  the  life  of  the  woman  who  was  to  be  tried  that 
afternoon,  he  would  desert  at  once.  But  there  were 
the  dispatches  found  on  her  person.  Why  did  neither 
of  them  think  to  destroy  them?  Miss  Baggs  certainly 
would  have  thought  of  it,  except  for  two  reasons: 
First,  she  had  been  dazed  by  her  fall;  second,  there 
were  love  passages  going  on  at  the  time  the  work 
should  have  been  done,  between  her  and  Ratigan, 
which  occupied  the  attention  of  both  to  the  exclusion 
of  all  else.  Ratigan  put  his  good  sense  in  command 
and  it  told  him  that  his  desertion  would  probably  not 
save  Miss  Baggs.  Then  he  remembered  her  singular 
confidence  that  he  would  in  any  event  do  his  duty, 
and  her  wish  that  he  should  do  it.  This  settled  the 
matter  and  the  corporal  was  saved  from  the  ignominy 
of  desertion.  He  rode  on  and  dismounted  at  the 
house  where  the  court  was  already  assembled. 

"Corporal  Ratigan,  you're  late,"  said  the  president 
sternly. 

The  corporal  saluted,  but  said   nothing.     He  was 


CHICKAMAVGA.  155 

directed  to  wait  till  some  preliminaries  had  been 
disposed .  of,  and  he  took  position  in  a  corner.  It 
needed  all  the  strength  of  which  he  was  possessed  to 
maintain  himself  on  his  legs,  and  he  tried  to  keep  his 
eyes  from  looking  about  the  court  room.  He  feared 
that  if  they  rested  on  the  prisoner,  even  for  a  moment, 
he  would  sink  down  on  the  floor,  a  heap  of  blue  uni- 
form and  boots.  Nevertheless  the  eyes  will  not 
always  be  controlled.  Despite  his  efforts,  Ratigan's 
gave  involuntary  glances  here  and  there,  until  sud- 
denly they  rested  on  the  object  they  were  expected  to 
avoid,  sitting  opposite,  surrounded  by  guards,  pale, 
but  self-possessed,  and  a  pair  of  glorious  eyes  looking 
at  him  with  such  sympathy  and  encouragement  that 
the  poor  man  felt  as  if  the  windows  of  Heaven  had 
been  opened  and  an  angel  was  looking  out  to  give  hnn 
strength.  Once  his  eyes  were  riveted  on  hers  there 
was  no  getting  them  away,  until  he  was  suddenly 
aroused  by  a  voice, 

"Corporal  Ratigan!" 

Mechanically  he  staggered  to  a  place  designated  as 
a  witness-stand,  and  holding  on  to  the  back  of  a  chair 
steadied  himself  to  give  his  testimony. 

"State  how  you  first  saw  the  prisoner  tampering 
with  the  telegraph  line  on  yesterday  morning,  Sep- 
tember — th,"  said  the  judge  advocate,  an  officer  very 
tall,  very  slender,  and  very  serious  looking. 

"Oi  didn't  see  her  at  all." 

"What?" 

"It  was  too  dark  to  see  anything." 

"Well,  state  what  you  did  see." 

"I  only  thought  I  saw  something." 


1 5  6  CHICK  A  MA  UGA . 

"Come,  come,"  said  the  president  sternly,  "we 
have  no  time  to  waste;   tell  the  story  of  the  capture." 

Thus  commanded,  the  corporal  braced  himself  to 
give  the  desired  account. 

"Oi  was  riding  to  camp — after  having  posted  the 
relief,  and  coming  along  the  road — it  was  the  road  Oi 

was   coming  along,   Oi — Oi Colonel,   it  was  so 

dark  none  of  ye  could  have  seen  ye'r  hand  before  ye'r 
face."  The  corporal  stopped  and  gave  evidence  of 
sinking  on  the  floor. 

"Well,  go  on." 

"There  was  something  black  in  the  road,  or  by  the 
side  of  't.  Oi  stopped  to  listen.  Then  Oi  thought 
some  one  might  be  tampering  with  the  line — mind  ye, 
Oi  only  thought  it — and  Oi  called  on  whoiver  it  was 
to  surrender.  Then  Oi  heard  a  'get  up,'  and  what- 
iver  it  was  dashed  off.  Oi  followed  it  as  fast  as  iver 
Oi  could,  calling  on  'em  to  stop,  and  firing  me 
Colt.     Divil  a  bit  did  anyone  stop." 

The  corporal  paused  again.  It  looked  as  if  he 
were  not  going  to  get  any  further. 

'  'Go  on,  my  man." 

"Well,  then  we  came  to  the  camp  of  General 's 

division,  and  I  was  halted  by  the  guards,  while  what 
Oi  had  seen  got  ahead.  So  Oi  lost  sight  of  it  en- 
tirely." 

"Proceed." 

"Well  wasn't  it  the  fault  of  the  guards  stopping  me 
and  letting  the  other  go  on — and  no  fault  of  mine?" 

"Goon." 

"What's  the  use  of  going  on?  Oi  lost  sight  of 
what  was  tampering  with  the  wires," 


CHICKAMAUGA.  157 

"But  you  overtook  it." 

"How  can  I  swear  it  was  the  same?" 

There  was  a  smile  on  the  faces  of  those  present. 
The  questioner  seemed  puzzled  at  the  corporal's 
device    to   avoid    testifying    against   the    prisoner. 

"Did  you  not  ride  on  and  overtake  what  you  had 
seen?" 

"Divil  a  bit." 

"I  know  better.  You  went  on  and  found  some- 
thing in  the  road.     What  did  you  find?" 

"Oi  didn't  find  what  I'd  seen." 

"What  had  you  seen?" 

"Didn't  Oi  tell  ye  it  was  so  dark  that  I  couldn't 
see  anything?" 

"That  won't  do,  corporal;  you  certainly  followed 
something.  Now,  on  coming  up  with  it,  what  did  you 
find  it  to  be?" 

"It  wasn't  what  Oi  followed.  That,  whatever  it 
was,  had  gone  out  with  the  morning  light.  Oi  reckon 
it  was  something  ghostly." 

"Nonsense.  Did  you  not  find  the  prisoner  lying  in 
the  grass?" 

"Oi  did,"  replied  the  witness,  as  if  his  heart  would 
break,  and  he  again  showed  signs  of  collapse. 

"And  you  had  reason  to  believe  it  was  the  person 
driving  the  buggy  you  followed?" 

"I  didn't  see  any  buggy.     It  was  so  dark " 

"Well" — impatiently — "the  person  driving  what- 
ever it  was  you  saw." 

"How  could  I  know  that?" 

"It  was  natural  to  infer  that,  there  being  a  horse  and 
buggy  near,  the  prisoner  had  been  driving  it." 


158  CHICKAMAUGA. 

"There  was  no  buggy." 

"Well,  the  pieces." 

"Nov/,  I  would  ask  the  court,"  said  Ratigan,  steady- 
ing himself  to  impress  the  members  with  the  proba- 
bility of  his  position,  "if  the  person  or  whatever  it 
was  I  saw  tampering  with  the  wire  moighten't  have 
turned  off  on  another  road  an'  Oi  suddenly  lighted  on 
this  one." 

"That'll  do,  corporal;  you  may  step  out  and  give 
the  next  witness  your  place." 

The  next  witness  was  an  officer  from  the  camp  to 
which  the  prisoner  had  first  been  taken  after  her  cap- 
ture. He  testified  that  upon  a  proposition  to  search 
her,  she  had  voluntarily  produced  the  dispatches, 
which  were  shown  to  him  in  court,  and  he  identified 
them  as  the  same  as  those  she  had  given  up. 

A  reading  of  these  dispatches  was  called  for  and 
they  were  read. 

In  addition  to  those  Miss  Baggs  deciphered  when 
at  the  Fain  plantation,  were  two  others,  which  were  as 
follows: 

Crawfish  Springs,  Ga., 
September  14,  1863. 
Mobile  Burton  you  when  on  has  from  other  bob 
from  reinforced  Quadroon  count  us  that  to  wet  ap- 
plause will  can  your  undoubtedly  century  points 
orange  Benjamin  and  been  coming  we  join  *  tele- 
graphs. 

*  Key.  The  first  word,  "  Mobile,"  denotes  that  there  are  seven 
lines  and  four  columns.  Begin  at  the  top  of  the  second  ;  down 
the  second,  up  the  first,  down  the  third,  up  the  fourth  ;  omitting 
every  eighth  word. 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  159 

Pinned  to  this  telegram  was  a  paper  bearing  ?n 
attempt  at  explanation  in  the  prisoner's  handwritini;. 

To  Burton  (probably  Burnside) 

on  your  coming 

can  we  count 

when  can  we  count  on  your  coming? 

Applause  (some  person,  probably  the  signer)  tele- 
graphs 

been  reinforced  from 

some  one  telegraphs  that  Quadroon  (probably 
Bragg)  has  been  reinforced  from  other  points. 

Washington,  September — th,  1863. 
Potts  ready  we  result  condition  us  if  separated  goes 
Jack  all  badly  rapidly  attack  scattered  the  twentieth 
and  doodle  D  shall  but  I  in  the  but  well  plaster 
Arabia  are  up  should  present  dread  the  concentrated 
jet  be  by  should  our  enemy  closing  we  to.* 

There  was  no  attempted  explanation  with  this  tele- 
gram. Either  the  prisoner  had  made  no  headway 
with  it,  or  she  had  not  sufficient  time;  probably  both, 
though  it  was  more  difficult  to  decipher  than  any 
of  the  others. 

These  telegrams  had  been  sent  to  general  head- 
quarters and  an  interpretation  of  them  furnished, 
which  was  read  to  the  court: 

Crawfish  Springs,  Ga., 

September  14,  1S63. 
To  Burnside:    Halleck  telegraphs  that  vou  will  join 
us.      When  can  we  count  on  your  corning?     Bragg  has 

*  Key.  First  word,  "  Potts,"  denotes  that  there  eight  lines  and 
five  columns.  Go  up  th-  fourth,  down  the  third,  up  the  fifth, 
down  the  second,  up  the  first. 


1 60  CHICK  A  MA  UGA . 

undoubtedly  been  reinforced  from  Virginia  and  other 

points.  ROSECRANS. 

Crawfish  Springs,  Ga., 

September  i6,  1863. 
To  the  Secretary  of  War:  All  goes  well.  We  are 
badly  separated,  but  closing  up  rapidly.  If  the  enemy 
should  attack  us  in  our  present  scattered  condition, 
I  should  dread  the  result.  But  by  the  twentieth  we 
shall  be  concentrated  and  ready.  D. 

The  reading  of  these  dispatches  produced  an  im- 
pression on  the  court  very  unfavorable  to  the  pris- 
oner. She  had  held  the  very  life  of  the  army  in  her 
hands.  Had  she  got  through  the  lines  with  these  two 
ciphers  and  their  interpretations  she  would  have 
supplied  the  enemy  with  such  information  as  would 
put  an  end  to  all  uncertainty,  and  insure  an  attack  on 
the  Army  of  the  Cumberland  before  it  could  be  con- 
centrated or  supported  by  other  troops.  This  would 
have  resulted  in  its  annihilation. 

There  was  really  no  defense  to  make,  and  the  de- 
fending counsel  simply  placed  his  client  on  the  mercy 
of  the  court,  hoping  that  being  a  woman  death  might 
not  be  the  penalty.  The  room  was  cleared  nnd  the 
verdict  considered.  The  court  were  not  long  in  con- 
victing the  accused  of  being  a  spy  and  amenable  to 
the  treatment  of  spies;  but  as  to  the  punishment  there 
was  a  great  diversity  of  opinion.  Some  thought  that 
imprisonment  in  a  Northern  penitentiary  would  be  a 
sufficient  atonement.  There  were  those  who  argued 
that  this  would  not  have  any  effect  to  deter  others 
from  similar  acts  at  a  time  when  the  army  was  in  so 
critical  a  situation.     Then  the  importance  of  the  dis- 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA.  1 6 1 

patches  Miss  Baggs  was  attempting  to  deliver  to  the 
enemy;  the  fact  that  their  delivery  would  have  given 
any  general  prompt  to  take  advantage  of  an  army's 
weakness  an  opportunity  to  destroy  the  Army  of  the 
Cumberland,  acted  seriously  upon  those  who  were 
disposed  toward  clemency.  Some  members  of  the 
court  argued  that  the  prisoner  had  acted  as  a  man 
and  must  take  the  consequences,  the  same  as  if  she 
were  a  man.  There  was  none  but  knew  that  in  this 
view  of  the  case  she  would  be  immediately  hanged. 
The  disputants  soon  ranged  themselves  on  opposite 
sides,  the  one  in  favor  of  an  extreme  course,  the  other 
of  a  life  imprisonment.  But  the  critical  position  of 
the  army  and  the  enormity  of  the  offense  finally  won 
over  the  latter,  and  the  case  was  compromised  by  the 
convicted  woman  being  sentenced  to  be  shot  at  sun- 
rise the  next  morning.  The  verdict  and  sentence 
were  approved  within  two  hours  of  the  finding,  and 
Colonel  Mark  Maynavd  was  ordered  to  see  that  the 
sentence  was  duly  carried  out. 


XVI. 

YOU    SHALL    NOT    DIE. 

SCARCELY  bad  the  court-martial  brought  in  a  ver- 
dict when  an  order  came  to  Colonel  Maynard  to 
move  his  brigade  across  the  Chickamauga  Creek  by 
way  of  Dyer's  Bridge,  to  be  ready  early  the  following 
day  to  make  a  reconnoisance  beyond  the  Pigeon 
Mountains.  He  ordered  an  ambulance  for  his  pris- 
oner to  ride  in,  since  he  had  no  option  but  to  take  her 
with  him.  The  distance  to  be  traversed  was  but  a 
few  miles,  and  although  it  was  nearly  sunset  before 
the  command  broke  camp,  it  was  barely  dark  when 
the  tents  \fere  pitched  in  the  new  situation.  Luckily 
a  house  was  found  for  the  reception  of  the  prisoner, 
and  the  headquarters  of  the  colonel  commanding  were 
established  near  it. 

As  soon  as  Maynard's  tent  was  pitched  he  went 
inside  and  shut  hunself  up  from  everyone.  The  mat- 
ter of  the  life  in  his  keeping,  his  desire  to  save  his 
prisoner,  the  impossibility  of  his  doing  so  except  by 
betraying  his  trust  and  conniving  at  her  escape,  was 
weighmg  terribly  upon  him.  A  desperate  struggle 
between  his  duty  as  an  officer,  and  his  repulsion  at 
carrying  out  a  sentence  upon  a  woman  which  had 
once  been  passed  upon  himself,  was  driving  him  well- 
nigh  distracted.  One  thing  was  certain:  he  could 
not  save  Miss  Baggs  without  sacrificing  himself.      He 

162 


CHICkAMAUGA.  163 

was  ready  to  sacrifice  himself  if  he  could  do  so  honor- 
ably. He  might  even  consider  the  matter  of  doing 
that  which  he  had  no  right  to  do,  but  since  the  devil- 
may-care  days  of  his  scouting,  a  new  world  had 
opened  to  him  which  made  the  struggle  more  com- 
plicated than  it  would  then  have  been.  He  had  a 
wife  whom  he  loved  devotedly,  and  any  obloquy  he 
might  take  upon  himself  must  be  shared  by  her  and 
his  son.  He  knew  that  if  he  could  conceive  it  to  be 
his  duty,  or  if  he  could  make  up  his  mind  without  the 
approval  of  his  conscience,  to  connive  at  the  prison- 
er's escape,  he  would  have  a  fair  chance  of  success. 
He  was  charged  with  the  execution,  and  this  would 
give  him  power  over  her  person.  On  the  other  hand, 
such  a  violation  of  trust  was  too  horrible  even  for 
consideration,  and  if  he  did  not  so  regard  it,  the 
penalty  he  must  suffer — disgrace,  if  not  death — would 
well-nigh  kill  his  wife.  For  a  long  while  he  revolved 
these  considerations  in  his  mind  and  at  last  came  to  a 
decision.  He  would  suffer  the  torture  of  carrying 
out  the  sentence.  He  would  do  his  duty  to  his  coun- 
try, his  wife,  and  his  son. 

He  had  scarcely  arrived  at  this  decision  when  a 
message  came  from  the  prisoner  asking  to  see  him. 

The  racking  of  his  whole  nature,  which  had  been 
partially  allayed  by  his  decision,  came  back  to  him 
with  the  summons.  He  dreaded  an  interview.  He 
felt  that  the  resolution  he  had  formed  was  of  too  little 
inherent  strength  to  warrant  placing  himself  under  so 
great  a  temptation.  But  his  memory  took  him  back 
to  the  jail  in  which  he  had  been  confined  on  the  eve 
of  his  own   intended   execution   at  Chattanooga,  and 


1 64  CHICK  A  MA  VGA . 

he  thought  how  he  would  have  regarded  anyone  who 
would  refuse  him  such  a  request  at  such  a  time.  He 
got  up,  and  walked  over  to  the  house  where  the  pris- 
oner was  confined. 

He  paused  a  few  moments  before  entering,  in 
order  to  collect  himself,  then  walked  slowly  up  the 
steps.  The  guard  stood  at  attention  and  brought  his 
piece  to  a  "present,"  but  Maynard  did  not  see  him, 
did  not  return  his  salute.  He  opened  the  door, 
entered  the  house,  and  in  a  few  minutes  was  in  a 
room  in  which  the  prisoner  was  confined.  She  was 
standing  by  a  window.  As  he  entered  she  turned  and 
stood  with  her  hands  hanging  clasped  before  her,  her 
sorrowful  eyes  fixed  steadily  upon  him. 

"Colonel  Maynard,"  she  said,  "I  have  sent  for  you 
to  ask  you  to  deliver  my  last  messages.  I  once  met 
you  in  the  house  of  one  who  is  dear  to  you.  There  I 
received  shelter  from  the  storm  which  raged  without, 
but  which  was  nothing  to  me  beside  another  evil  that 
threatened  me.  I  was  sore  pressed  and  in  great  dan- 
ger of  capture.  The  women  in  that  house — an  elderly 
lady,  a  young  girl  who  visited  there,  and  your  wife — 
took  me  in  at  a  great  risk  to  themselves.  Your  wife 
certainly  had  much  at  stake,  for  your  honor  might  be 
involved.  I  have  sent  for  you  now  to  ask  you  to  say 
to  them  that  I  have  treasured  their  remembrance  and 
their  kindness  to  me." 

She  waited  a  moment  for  him  to  accept  the  trust. 
She  might  have  waited  till  the  crack  of  doom,  without 
a  reply ;  he  had  no  power  to  utter  a  word.  He 
simply  bowed. 

"I  desire  also  to  intrust  this  keepsake  to  you,  to  be 
sent  to  my  brother." 


CHICK  AM  A  UGA.  1 6  5 

She  took  a  locket  from  about  her  neck,  and  held  it 
up  before  him.  On  it  was  painted  a  miniature  of  a 
young  man  in  the  uniform  of  a  Confederate  ofificer. 
Maynard  looked  at  it,  and  started  back  with  a  cry  as 
if  pierced  with  a  red-hot  iron. 

"He?  he  is ?" 

"My  brother." 

"O  God!"  He  staggered  to  the  wall  and  leaned 
against  it,  shivering. 

"You  know  him,  colonel.  There  is  no  necessity 
for  deceit  now.  1  have  long  known  the  singular  cir- 
cumstances that  surround  you  and  him:  that  you  both 
loved  the  same  woman;  that  you  won." 

"And  that  twice — twice  he  gave  me — my  life?" 

"That  he  never  told  me." 

"Ah!  He  never  told  you  that?"  replied  Maynard, 
a  kind  of  wonder  in  his  tones. 

"When  at  Mrs.  Fain's  plantation  I  discovered 
under  whose  roof  I  was  sheltered.  Your  wife  had 
never  seen  me,  and  I  determined  that  it  would  be  best 
for  all  that  I  should  not  make  myself  known." 

Maynard  stood  in  amazement  at  these  developments, 
in  horror  at  the  situation,  as  he  now  knew  it  to  be. 

"And  you  are  the  sister  of  Cameron  Fitz  Hugh?" 

"I  am.     I  am  Caroline  Fitz  Hugh." 

"  You  shall  not  die." 

When  Colonel  Maynard  spoke  these  words  there  was 
a  grandeur  in  his  tone,  his  figure,  the  lines  of  his 
countenance,  the  light  in  his  eye,  strangely  incon- 
sistent with  a  resolution  he  had  made  the  moment 
before  they  were  uttered.  He  had  on  the  instant 
reversed  his  decision  made  not  ten  minutes  before  to 
do  his  duty,  in  the  ordinary  acceptance  of  what  that 


1 6  6  CHICK  A  MA  VGA . 

duty  was;  he  had  determined  to  save  the  woman 
before  him,  even  if  it  were  necessary  to  take  upon 
himself  far  greater  ignominy  than  the  death  to  which 
she  was  sentenced.  There  was  silence  between  them, 
during  which  Miss  Fitz  Hugh  stood  looking  at  him  in 
admiration,  mingled  with  inquiry.  She  knew  that 
some  secret  charm  was  at  work  within,  but  she  did 
not  know  what  it  was. 

"How  can  my  death  be  prevented?" 

"I  am  charged  with  your  execution.  I  will  take 
you  to  your  lines  myself  this  night." 

What  was  that  subtle  influence,  far  stronger  than 
battalions  of  infantry  or  batteries  of  artillery,  which 
gave  it  to  one  not  present,  unconscious  of  his  power, 
to  hold  Mark  Maynard  over  a  precipice,  and  to  cast 
him  into  a  black  gulf  below?  Was  it  circumstances 
that  had,  a  year  before,  led  Fitz  Hugh  to  accept  the 
very  part  Maynard  was  now  called  upon  to  play? 
Was  it  love  that  had  given  Maynard  the  bride  Fitz 
Hugh  was  to  have  possessed?  Was  it  some  invisible 
fiend  that  had  made  Maynard  a  robber  of  that  bride 
from  the  man  to  whom  he  twice  owed  his  life,  and 
was  now  bringing  on  his  punishment?  These  were 
indirect  causes;  but  they  cannot  explain  that  inex- 
pressible, intangible  sense  of  honor  which  will  lead  a 
man — to  speak  paradoxically — to  commit  a  crime, 
and  sacrifice  himself  at  the  same  time  for  another. 

The  expression  on  Miss  Fitz  Hugh's  face,  as  she 
heard  Maynard  speak  words  which  would  save  her 
from  death  and  give  her  liberty,  underwent  a  change. 
For  a  moment  after  they  were  spoken  there  was  a 
delighted  look,  but  as  she  realized  what  they  meant  to 
the  man  who  would  save  her  it  was  transformed  into 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  167 

an  expression  which  can  only  be  described  as  border- 
ing on  the  confines  of  angel  land.  There  was  a  holy 
look  in  her  eyes,  a  radiance  of  purity  from  the  soul 
expressed  in  every  feature.  There  was  the  super- 
human attribute  of  choosing  death  before  life  and 
liberty  at  the  price  of  wrong. 

"No,  colonel,  we  Fitz  Hughs  cannot  accept  sacri- 
fice, and  especially  wrong,  from  others ;  we  give ;  we 
are  not  accustomed  to  receive." 

Maynard  stood  gazing  at  her  with  a  look  as  if,  in 
refusing  the  sacrifice,  she  had  stabbed  him. 

"What  then,"  he  said  at  last,  "can  I  do?" 

"Send  the  news  of  my  condition,  of  my  ex- 
pected— "she  shuddered  at  pronouncing  the  word — 
"execution  to  our  lines.  Knowing  that  I  am  con- 
demned they  can  bring  what  influence  they  may  be 
able,  to  save  me." 

"It  will  avail  nothing." 

"Try  it.  Fate,  luck.  Providence  works  strangely 
at  times.  Let  us  push  on  and  leave  the  rest  to  a 
higher  power." 

The  colonel  looked  at  his  watch.  "It  is  now  half- 
past  nine.  We  are  but  a  few  miles  from  the  Confed- 
erate lines.      Your  brother  is ?" 

"In 's  cavalry  division  and  on  the  Confederate 

right.  I  heard  from  him  only  a  few  days  ago.  He 
was  then  at  Ringold." 

"That  is  not  far  from  here." 

"There  may  be  time,"  she  said  hopefully. 

"Someone  must  steal  through  the  lines.  If  not 
shot,  he  may  accomplish  something.  In  half  an  hour 
I  shall  be " 

"You?" 


1 6  8  CHICK  A  MA  UGA . 

"Yes,  I!  I  will  not  trust  this  only  thread  on  which 
your  life  hangs  to  anyone  else.  Though  I  confess," 
he  added  gloomily,  "I  have  no  confidence  in  it." 

"No,  colonel,  I  cannot  accept  this  from  you.  You 
are  the  commander  here,  and  are  all  that  stands  be- 
tween me  and  death.  You  must  remain  here,  and 
send  a  messenger." 

"Who  would  I  dare  intrust  with  such  a  message?" 

"Send  for  the  man  who  captured  me,  Corporal 
Ratigan  ;  let  him  bear  the  message." 

"He?" 

The  colonel  looked  at  her  a  moment,  as  if  to  ques- 
tion why  this  man  should  be  so  trusted,  but  her  eyes 
were  lowered.  He  knew  there  was  a  secret  which  it 
did  not  become  him  to  pry  into. 

"I  will  send  him,  if  he  can  be  found  at  once.  If 
not,  I  will  go  myself.     And  if  the  mission  fails " 

The  words  were  not  finished,  for  he  well  knew  how 
precious  time  was,  and  turning  from  the  room  and  the 
house,  strode  rapidly  toward  his  tent. 

He  had  gone  but  a  dozen  paces  before  he  heard 
someone  call. 

"Colonel!" 

He  did  not  hear.     The  call  was  repeated. 

"Colonel!" 

A  man  approached  him,  whom  in  the  darkness  he 
did  not  recognize. 

"Is  there  no  hope,  colonel?"  the  man  asked  in  a 
choked  voice. 

"Who  are  you?" 

"The  man  who  captured  her,"  pointing  to  the 
house.      "Oi'll  never  draw  sabre  again." 

"Corporal  Ratigan?" 


CHICK  AM  A  UGA .  169 

"The  same," 

"This  is  fortunate.     Come  with  me." 

The  two  started  together  to  a  thicket,  wherein  they 
would  neither  be  observed  nor  heard. 

"Oi'm  hangen  round,  ye  see,  colonel.  Oi'm  away 
from  camp  without  leave.  Oi  hope  they'll  shoot  me 
for  a  deserter." 

Colonel  Maynard  did  not  speak  till  they  reached 
the  thicket.  Then  turning  and  facing  Ratigan,  he 
said  earnestly: 

"You  would  like  to  save  her,  would  you  not?" 

"God  knows  I  would." 

"Then  go  to  the  picket  line  and  get  through  unob- 
served, if  possible.  Go  to  Ringold  and  find  a  Confed- 
erate officer — Cameron  Fitz  Hugh,  if  he  is  there. 
Tell  him  that  his  sister  is  condemned  to  be  shot  at 
sunrise  to-morrow  morning.  Say  that  Colonel  Mark 
Maynard  sends  him  this  information,  that  he  may  use 
whatever  influence  he  possesses — take  any  measures 
he  may  consider  honorable — to  save  her.  Tell  him," 
the  colonel  lowered  his  voice,  "that  I  offered  to 
attempt  to  do  so,  taking  ruin  upon  myself,  but  she 
would  not  accept  the  sacrifice.  Go,  there  is  no  time 
to  lose.     When  the  sun  rises  it  will  be  too  late." 

"Oh,  colonel,"  cried  the  man  in  agony,  "there  is 
so  little  time." 

"Go!  It  is  not  yet  ten  o'clock.  We  have  six 
hours. ' ' 

The  corporal  was  moving  away,  when  the  colonel 
stopped  him. 

"You  will  need  the  countersign." 

Ratigan  returned,  and  the  colonel  whispered  it  in 
his  ear.     "Carnifax  Ferry." 


XVII. 

ratigan's  mission. 

THE  extreme  left  of^the  Army  of  the  Cumberland, 
from  which  Corporal  Ratigan  started  to  go 
through  the  lines,  was  held  only  by  cavalry  and 
mounted  infantry,  and  these  widely  separated.  There 
was  no  regular  picket  line,  such  as  usually  exists  be- 
tween armies  confronting  each  other  where  the  differ- 
ent branches  of  the  service  are  represented  in  one 
continuous  line.  Consequently  the  corporal  had  a  far 
better  chance  to  get  through  than  under  ordinary 
circumstances.  Passing  over  the  Pea  Vine  Ridge,  he 
descended  the  other  side  sloping  to  a  small  stream 
called  Pea  Vine  Creek.  It  was  essential  that  he  slip 
through  between  the  Union  vedettes  unseen,  for  if 
observed  he  would  be  taken  for  a  deserter  and  either 
shot  or  sent  into  the  headquarters  of  his  regiment. 
The  videttes  were  principally  on  the  roads,  and  the 
corporal,  believing  that  they  would  be  looking  for  an 
enemy  on  routes  over  which  cavalry  could  best 
advance,  selected  one  least  advantageous  for  a  horse 
to  follow.  Wherever  he  could  find  a  thick  clump  of 
trees  or  low  growth,  a  knoll,  a  ravine,  indeed  any- 
thing difficult  for  a  horse  to  pass,  he  would  go  over  or 
through  it.  Now  he  would  stop  to  listen  for  some 
sound  such  as  a  horse  is  liable  to  make,  and  now 
would  steal  on  his  hands  and  knees  or  crawl  on  his 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  1 7 1 

belly  over  some  eminence  where,  if  he  should  stand 
upright,  his  body  would  make  a  silhouette  against  the 
sky.  On  crossing  a  bit  of  level  ground  he  suddenly 
heard  a  horse's  "splutter."  He  was  near  a  clump  of 
bushes,  in  which  he  lost  no  time  in  concealing  himself. 
A  cavalryman  rode  by  within  fifty  feet  of  him,  walk- 
ing his  horse  slowly,  the  butt  of  his  carbine  resting  on 
his  right  leg,  and  in  a  position  to  be  used  readily. 
He  was  patrolling  a  beat.  Ratigan  waited  till  he  had 
gone  past,  then  darted  onward  to  trees  which,  from 
their  irregular  line,  he  judged  grew  beside  the  creek. 
He  was  not  disappointed  and  was  soon  standing  in 
shallow  water,  resting  for  a  few  minutes  under  a  low 
bank. 

Ratigan's  eagerness  to  get  on,  and  the  consequent 
temptation  to  carelessness,  were  restrained  by  his 
remembrance  that  on  his  getting  safely  through  de- 
pended that  slender  chance  on  which  Caroline  Fitz 
Hugh's  life  hung.  His  faculties  were  strained  to 
their  utmost  acuteness.  Had  he  been  flying  for  his 
own  life  he  could  not  have  been  so  wary.  His  ears 
took  in  the  slightest  sound;  his  eyes,  soon  becoming 
used  to  the  night,  gave  him  views  of  distant  objects 
with  surprising  distinctness;  and  now,  crossing  the 
creek  under  the  shadowing  trees,  even  his  touch  came 
to  his  assistance,  and  enabled  him  to  grasp  roots  by 
which  to  drag  himself  upon  the  other  side. 

Once  past  the  creek  he  felt  that  one-half  his  dan- 
ger was  ended.  He  had  doubtless  got  beyond  the 
range  of  his  own  comrades,  and  now  came  the  greater 
danger  of  meeting  the  Confederate  pickets.  Men  on 
picket,  with  an  enemy  before  them,  are  not  apt  to  trifle 


172  CHICK  AM  A  UGA . 

with  those  coming  from  their  front,  and  Ratigan  knew 
that  if  he  should  suddenly  come  upon  a  vedette  he 
would  be  more  liable  to  receive  a  shot  than  a  chal- 
lenge. Leaving  the  creek  he  ascended  a  slight 
eminence,  and  made  a  survey  of  the  surrounding 
country.  All  was  silent,  except  that  he  could  hear 
an  occasional  sound  like  a  distant  burst  of  laughter, 
or  a  shout  from  the  direction  of  Ringold,  in  his  front. 
Presently  he  heard  the  unmistakable  rumble  of  a  train 
coming  from  the  South. 

"It  will  pass  right  down  there  behind  that  clump  of 
trees,  and  go  through  the  cut,"  said  the  corporal.  "I 
wonder  wouldn't  it  be  a  good  plan  to  take  advantage 
of  its  noise  when  it  passes  to  slip  through  the  out- 
posts. They'll  be  thinking  of  the  train,  and  I  can 
follow  in  its  wake." 

He  advanced  cautiously  to  the  trees  beside  the 
track,  and  waited  for  the  train.  It  came  on  slowly. 
Southern  railroads  at  that  time  were  not  in  a  condi- 
tion to  warrant  fast  traveling,  and  the  road  in  question 
was  no  exception.  Ratigan  waited  perhaps  ten  min- 
utes beside  the  cut  through  which  the  train  was  to 
pass,  but  so  eager  was  he  to  get  on,  so  little  time  lay 
between  life  and  death,  that  it  seemed  half  an 
hour. 

Presently  the  headlight  of  a  locomotive  shot  out 
from  around  a  curve.  The  corporal  had  forgotten 
that  its  light  would  reveal  him  to  the  engineer.  He 
crouched  down  out  of  sight  with  a  high-beating  heart, 
and  none  too  soon,  for  had  he  stayed  where  he  was 
the  light  would  have  shone  directly  on  him.  He 
waited  while    the   engine  puffed   slowly  by.     It  was 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  173 

drawing  a  long  train  of  mixed  passenger,  cattle, 
and  platform  cars;  every  car  crowded  with 
troops. 

"They're  preparing  to  give  us  a  brush  in  earnest. 
Like  enough  these  are  reinforcements,"  muttered  the 
corporal. 

Ratigan  determined  to  follow  the  railroad  north  to 
Ringold,  which  he  judged  to  be  only  a  mile  distant. 
The  train  loaded  with  Confederate  troops  having  just 
passed,  the  guards  he  might  meet  would  probably  not 
be  very  suspicious  of  an  enemy.  He  walked  on  the 
track  for  a  short  distance,  expecting  a  challenge  with 
every  step. 

He  received  one  suddenly,  just  before  entering  a 
wood.  A  man  on  horseback  aimed  a  carbine  at  him 
and  gave  the  customary: 

"Who  comes  thar?" 

Ratigan  at  once  threw  up  his  hands,  which  his 
challenger  could  distinctly  see,  and  cried  out:  "  I 
want  you  to  take  me  to  Colonel  Fitz  Hugh." 

"What  do  you  want  with  him?" 

"Do  you  know  him?" 

"He  commands  a  regiment  in  our  brigade." 

Seeing  that  the  corporal  held  his  hands  above  his 
head  the  man  permitted  him  to  draw  near.  Once 
there  Ratigan  informed  him  of  the  nature  of  his  mis- 
sion, and  begged  him  for  Colonel  Fitz  Hugh's  sake  to 
send  him  to  Ringold  at  once.  The  vedette  was  con- 
vinced from  Ratigan's  earnestness  that  he  bore  a 
message  of  importance,  and  calling  his  comrades 
ordered  one  of  them  to  dismount.  Then  taking  the 
precaution  to  blindfold  the  stranger,  he  mounted  him, 


174  CHICK  A  MA  UGA . 

and  placing  a  horseman  on  either  side  of  liim,  sent  the 
three  clattering  toward  Ringold. 

It  was  not  a  long  distance  to  the  town,  but  all  dis- 
tances, all  periods  of  waiting,  seemed  long  to  the  cor- 
poral. Was  not  the  terrible  event  to  take  place  at 
sunrise?     And  now  it  must  be  near  midnight. 

"What  is  the  time?"  he  asked  of  his  conductors. 

"Twenty  minutes  to  eleven." 

"Let's  go  faster.  Colonel  Fitx  Hugh  would  be  as 
anxious  for  me  to  get  on  as  I  am  myself,  if  he  knew 
my  errand." 

"All  right.  Let's  light  out,  Pete."  And  Ratigan 
felt  the  motion  of  a  gallop  in  the  horse  he  rode. 

And  now  comes  a  "halt"  from  a  guard,  and  an 
answer,  followed  by  "advance  and  give  the  counter- 
sign." One  of  the  men  goes  forward  for  the  pur- 
pose. -Then  the  party  goes  on  again,  but  what  they 
pass,  or  where  they  are  going  Ratigan  knows  noth- 
ing. He  only  knows  that  they  are  moving,  and  that 
they  are  not  moving  fast  enougli  to  suit  him.  Pres- 
ently they  stop,  and  the  corporal  can  hear  one  of  the 
men  dismount.  There  is  a  stroke  of  a  clock  evidently 
from  a  church  spire.  He  counted  "one,"  "two," 
"three,"  and  on  to  "eleven." 

"Dismount." 

He  lost  no  time  in  throwing  himself  from  his  horse 
and  was  led  forward.  The  air  became  warmer.  He 
must  be  in  an  inclosure.  The  bandage  was  taken 
from  his  eyes. 

He  was  standing  in  a  tent  lighted  by  a  candle  fixed 
to  the  end  of  a  stake  driven  into  the  ground.  There 
was   but    one  other   person    present,    a    Confederate 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  175 

officer.  He  was  a  tall,  slender  young  man  with  long 
black  hair,  a  mustache  and  goatee,  and  an  eye  honest, 
respect-inspiring,  and  with  all  the  gentleness  of  a 
woman's. 

"Are  you  Colonel  Fitz  Hugh?"  asked  the  corporal, 
making  a  salute  as  if  in  presence  of  an  officer  of  his 
own  side. 

"I  am." 

"I  have  a  message  from  your  sister." 

Colonel  Fitz  Hugh  turned  ashy  pale.  No  one 
could  come  to  him  from  her  without  striking  terror 
into  him,  for  he  knew  the  work  in  which  she 
was  engaged.  For  months  he  had  lived  in  dread  of 
her  capture.  If  the  messenger  had  been  a  citizen  or 
a  Confederate  soldier,  it  might  not  speak  so  clearly  of 
danger,  but  coming  from  a  Yankee  trooper,  quick 
reasoning  told  him  that  she  had  doubtless  met  with 
disaster. 

"Indeed,"  was  all  his  reply  to  the  corporal's 
announcement. 

"Oi'm  sorry  to  inform  ye,  sir,"  said  the  corporal, 
in  a  voice  which  he  vainly  endeavored  to  keep  steady, 
"that  Miss  Fitz  Hugh,  passing  under  the  name  of 
Elizabeth  Baggs " 

Fitz  Hugh  put  his  hand  on  Ratigan's  arm  and 
stopped  him,  while  he  gathered  his  faculties  to  bear 
what  he  knew  was  coming. 

"Was  pursued  by  a  contemptible  cur  of  a  Yankee, 
who  deserves  to  be  hanged  for  chasing  a  woman " 

"Yes,  yes.     Go  on." 

"Was  captured  and " 

"O  God!" 


1 7  ^  CHICK  A  MA  UGA . 

"Condemned  to  be  shot  for  a  spy  to-morrow  morn- 
ing at  sunrise." 

Fitz  Hugh  sank  back  on  a  camp  cot  and  covered 
his  face  with  his  hands.  For  a  few  moments  the 
corporal  respected  his  grief  by  silence,  but  time  was 
precious,  and  he  soon  continued. 

"Thinking  ye  might  exercise  some  influence  to  save 
her,  Oi've  come  to  inform  ye  of  the — distressing  fact." 

The  last  two  words  were  spoken  in  a  broken  voice. 

"By  whose  authority?" 

Fitz  Hugh  rose  and  stood  before  the  corporal.  He 
had  nerved  himself  for  whatever  was  to  follow. 

"Colonel   Mark  Maynard,  commanding  the th 

cavalry  brigade." 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me,"  said  Fitz  Hugh,  with  a 
singular,  impressive  slowness,  "that  my  sister  is  at  the 
mercy  of  Mark  Maynard 7  " 

"He  is  charged  with  her  execution." 

Colonel  Fitz  Hugh  shuddered.  "That  man  is  my 
Nemesis,"  he  cried  in  a  voice  filled  with  a  kind  of 
despair. 

"  'Tis  he  that  sent  me  to  ye." 

"He?" 

"The  same." 

"Does  he  wish  to  save  my  sister?" 

"He  does." 

"Why  then  does  he  not  do  so?" 

"He  can  only  save  her  by  his  own  disgrace.  Your 
sister   will   not   accept   tlie  sacrifice." 

"A  true  Fitz  Hugh,"  said  the  brother  proudly. 

"Then  Miss  Fitz  Hugh  suggested  that  he  might 
send  me  to  inform  ye  of  the  situation,  that  ye  might 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  IT  7 

have  opportunity  to  use  any  influence  ye  would  con- 
sider wise  and  honorable  to  secure  a  reprieve." 

Fitz  Hugh  thought  earnestly  with  his  head  bowed, 
his  eyes  fixed  on  a  spot  on  the  ground. 

"There  is  nothing  that  I  can  do,"  he  said  at  last. 
"Threatened  retaliation  is  the  only  recourse,  and  that 
could  not  be  effected  under  the  circumstances  without 
implicating  Colonel  Maynard." 

"Then  ye  see  no  way  open?"  asked  the  corporal 
despondently. 

"It  is  impossible  for  me  to  act  intelligently  alone. 
If  I  could  see  Colonel  Maynard,  perhaps  together  we 
might  hit  upon  a  plan." 

"Would  ye  meet  him  between  the  lines?" 

"There  is  not  sufficient  time." 

"There's  five  or  six  hours." 

Fitz  Hugh  stood  pondering  for  a  few  moments 
without  reply.      Then  suddenly  starting  up,  he  said: 

"Go  tell  Colonel  Maynard  that  t  will  meet  him  as 
you  suggest.  Let  the  point  of  rendezvous  be — let  me 
see — where  do  you  consider  a  feasible  point?  You 
have  just  come  through." 

"Oi  would  name  the  bank  of  the  creek  at  a  point 
due  west  of  this." 

"How  long  a  time  will  be  required  before  the  meet- 
ing can  take  place?      It  is  now  a  little  after  eleven." 

"It  may  be  an  hour,  it  may  be  longer.  If  ye  will 
be  there,  colonel,  at  twelve  o'clock,  we'll  meet  ye  as 
soon  after  as  possible." 

"You  will  find  me  there  at  twelve." 

"It  would  be  well,  colonel,  to  concert  a  signal  by 
which  each  should  know  the  other." 


1 7  8  CHICK  A  MA  UGA . 

"Suggest  one." 

"Oi'll  doubtless  be  with  Colonel  Maynard.  Oi'll 
cry  '  Oireland,''  and  you  can  respond " 

"  To  the  rescue." 

Colonel  Fitz  Hugh  called  to  those  waiting  outside, 
who  had  brought  in  Corporal  Ratigan,  and  directed 
theiji  to  blindfold  him  and  take  him  to  the  Federal 
lines;  and,  if  possible,  insure  his  getting  through 
without  injury.  They  were  to  report  the  result  to  \\\xn 
in  any  event. 

Ratigan  knew  nothing  but  the  gallop  of  the  horse 
on  which  he  sat,  with  a  handkerchief  about  his  eyes, 
until  the  party  conducting  him  drew  rein  and  he  was 
directed  to  dismount.  Then  he  was  asked  if  he 
would  be  escorted  to  a  Union  vedette  known  to  be  on 
a  road  leading  around  the  north  end  of  the  ridge,  or 
whether  he  would  go  alone. 

"Oi'll  go  alone,"  he  said.  "If  ye  go  with  me 
they'll  think  it  a  midnight  attack." 

Starting  forward,  the  corporal  trudged  over  a  short 
distance  between  him  and  the  vedette.  As  he  drew 
near  he  began  to  sing  a  few  lines  from  a  play  popular 
at  the  time. 

"  Thim's  the  boys 
What  makes  the  noise, 
Is  the  Ry'al  ArtillenV." 

"Who  comes  there?"  cried  the  vedette,  cocking  his 
piece  as  Ratigan  came  in  sight. 

"Friend  with  the  countersign,  to  be  sure!  Who 
d'ye  suppose?" 

"Advance,  friend,  and  give  the  countersign,"  called 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  1 7  9 

the  man.  He  was  a  good  deal  puzzled  at  hearing  the 
Irish  brogue  coming  from  that  direction  ;  but  it  reas- 
sured him;  he  did  not  have  much  fear  of  an  enemy, 
unless  it  were  a  trap  to  get  him  at  a  disadvantage. 
Ratigan  drew  near  and  whispered:    "Carnifax  Ferry." 

"What  are  you  doing  out  there?"  queried  the 
man. 

"Looken  out  for  trains  bringen  in  troops.  One 
came  in  half  an  hour  ago  loaded." 

"You  don't  mean  it?  Guess  they're  getten  in 
reinforcements." 

"I  believe  ye,  me  boy." 

Ratigan  walked  on  toward  the  camp  till  he  got  out 
of  sight  of  the  vedette;  then  he  ran  till  he  dropped 
breathless  in  Colonel  Maynard's  tent. 


XVIII. 

A    STRANGE    MEETING. 

RATIGAN  was  so  exhausted  as  to  be  only  able  to 
give  Maynard  a  few  detached  sentences,  con- 
veying some  idea  as  to  what  he  had  accomplished. 
There  was  little  that  it  was  essential  should  be  told 
except  that  Colonel  Fitz  Hugh  would  meet  him 
between  the  lines  as  soon  as  he  could  get  there. 
Casting  a  glance  at  his  watch,  Maynard  noticed  that  it 
was  twenty  minutes  to  twelve.  The  distance  to  the 
point  of  rendezvous,  as  near  as  they  could  estimate  it, 
was  two  miles.  Every  minute  was  precious.  It 
would  be  midnight  before  they  could  meet,  and  then 
they  would  only  have  about  six  hours  in  which  to  take 
measures  to  secure  a  reprieve.  They  could  only  do 
so  by  communicating  with  general  headquarters  some 
fifteen  miles  away.  In  any  event,  the  case  was  des- 
perate. However,  Maynard  had  been  used  in  his 
scouting  days  to  sudden  transitions,  and  had  himself 
escaped  from  prison  on  the  very  night  before  his 
intended  execution.  Calling  his  striker  he  bade  him 
saddle  Madge,  who,  he  knew,  could  carry  him  over 
the  ground  at  no  laggard  pace,  and  ordering  a  mount 
for  the  corporal  at  the  same  time,  the  two  waited  im- 
patiently till  both  animals  were  led  up  before  the  tent. 
Mounting,  they  began  to  climb  the  Pea  Vine  Ridge. 
Ratigan,  who  had  been  over  the  ground,  led  the  way. 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  1 8 1 

They  reached  the  top  of  the  ridge,  and  the  corporal 
pointed  out  the  position  on  the  creek,  due  west  of 
Ringold,  where  they  were  to  meet  Colonel  Fitz  Hugh. 
Descending  the  slope  they  came  upon  a  Union  vedette, 
and  were  challenged  with  the  usual  words,  "Who 
comes  there?" 

"The  colonel  commanding,  with  an  orderly,  in- 
specting vedettes." 

They  were  advanced,  gave  the  countersign,  and 
passed  on.  Taking  a  route  between  two  roads,  and 
meeting  no  more  guards,  they  cautiously  approached 
the  place  of  rendezvous. 

On  reaching  the  bank  of  the  creek  they  descended 
it,  the  corporal  riding  ahead  and  peering  through  the 
darkness  to  discover  what  they  were  looking  for. 
Presently  the  dark  figure  of  a  horseman  emerged  from 
a  clump  of  trees  on  the  opposite  bank,  and  rode  for- 
ward, toward  the  creek.  Ratigan  saw  him,  and 
believing  him  to  be  someone  in  attendance  upon 
Colonel  Fitz  Hugh,  called: 

' '  Oir eland. ' ' 

"  To  the  rescue,"  called  the  man  in  a  low  voice,  and 
rode  up  to  the  margin  of  the  creek. 

The  two  men  arranged  that  Colonel  Fitz  Hugh  and 
Colonel  Maynard  should  advance  to  the  respective 
places  they  themselves  occupied,  as  soon  as  they  had 
withdrawn.  Then  wheeling,  each  rode  back  to  his 
principal,  and  in  a  few  moments  more  the  Union  and 
Confederate  officers  faced  each  other  from  opposite 
banks  of  the  creek.  The  distance  between  them  at 
tliis  point  was  but  a  few  yards,  and  the  niglit  was  not 
so  dark  but  that  they  could   plainly  see  each  other. 


1 8  2  CHICK  A  MA  UGA . 

The  equestrian  figures  stood  silent,  each  waiting  for 
the  other  to  speak.  The  only  sound  came  from  the 
gurgling  of  the  stream  which  flowed  between  them. 
Somehow  a  couplet  from  "The  Brook,"  a  poem 
which  had  always  been  a  favorite  with  Maynard,  got 
into  his  head,  and  the  waters  were  continually  saying: 

"  Men  may  come,  and  men  may  go. 
But  I  go  on  forever." 

It  seemed  that  the  silence,  so  painful  and  embar- 
rassing, would  last  forever.  Maynard  tried  to  think 
of  some  remark  by  which  to  break  it  and  open  the 
interview,  as  Fitz  Hugh  evidently  expected  of  him ; 
but  no  words  came.  Those  of  the  couplet  kept  chas- 
ing each  other  through  his  mind,  and  so  long  as  they 
occupied  it  there  was  no  room  for  any  others.  Fitz 
Hugh  waited  for  Maynard  to  begin.  The  gravity  of 
the  situation  could  not  disturb  his  sense  of  propriety. 
He  had  made  an  analysis  of  the  etiquette  attending 
such  a  meeting,  and  concluded  that  Colonel  Maynard, 
having  opened  the  question  between  them  by  sending 
a  messenger,  and  that  messenger  having  suggested  the 
interview,  it  was  Maynard's  part  to  speak  first.  And 
so  it  seemed  minutes — it  was  only  seconds — that  the 
dark  figcire  in  blue  and  the  figure  in  lighter  gray  sat 
upon  their  horses  and  gazed  at  each  other  from  the 
opposite  banks  of  the  stream,  while  the  hours  were 
flying  toward  the  rising  sun  and  death;  and  he  who 
was  expected  to  break  the  silence  could  think  of 
nothing  but 

"  Men  may  come,  and  men  may  go. 
But  I  go  on  forever." 


CHICK  A  MA  VGA.  1 83 

At  last  Maynard  broke  out,  "You  are  Colonel  Fitz 
Hugh,  I  believe." 

"I  am.     I  recognize  Colonel  Maynard's  voice." 

"I  heard  yours  last  on  a  certain  evening  a  year 
ago;  an  evening  memorable  to  both  of  us.  Then  you 
gave  me  my  life,  and  by  doing  so  placed  yourself  in  a 
position  to  be  shot  for  a  traitor  to  your  cause." 

"Not  for  your  sake,  colonel;  for  the  sake  of  an- 
other." 

"It  matters  not  for  whose  sake;  the  act  remains. 
Once  before,  you  spared  me  when  you  found  me 
under  a  roof  which  covered " 

"Then  I  respected  the  ]aw3  of  hospitality  sacred  in 
the  South.  Let  us  not  dwell  on  these  matters,  colo- 
nel. Let  us  proceed  with  that  upon  which  we  have 
met  for  consultation." 

"You  are  right;  time  presses.  Your  sister  stands 
convicted  of  the  same  offense  as  mine  at  the  time  of 
which  we  have  been  speaking,  and  sentenced  to  die  at 
sunrise.  We  meet  to  concert  a  method  to  save 
her." 

"At  my  request.  But  any  proposition  must  come 
from  you,  Colonel  Maynard.  I  am  unfamiliar  with 
the  feeling  on  the  part  of  those  in  power  in  the  Fed- 
eral army  as  to  executing  a  sentence  of  death  upon  a 
woman." 

"Circumstances  which  I  cannot  explain — for  they 
pertain  to  the  situation  in  which  these  two  armies  are 
placed — render  the  feeling  against  your  sister  very 
severe." 

"You  have  suggested  my  exerting  influence  from 
our  side." 


1 84  CHICK  A  MA  UGA . 

"It  was  your  sister  who  suggested  it.  I  have  little 
faith  in  it." 

"What  did  you  propose?" 

"That  which  your  sister  would  not  accept." 

"And  that  was?" 

Maynard  whispered  in  a  strange,  savage  tone: 

"To  use  my  authority,  as  commanding  the  brigade 
charged  with  her  keeping,  to  place  her  within  your 
lines. " 

"And  now?" 

"I  listen  for  some  suggestion  from  you." 

"I  can  think  of  none  except,  with  your  permission, 
to  enter  a  protest  over  the  signature  of  our  command- 
ing officers  of  highest  rank." 

"It  would  avail  nothing." 

"Then  there  is  nothing  to  save  her  from  this  sacri- 
fice whicli,  though  she  has  always  been  prepared  for 
it,  and  doubtless  will  now  meet  it,  like  the  remarkable 
woman  she  is,  with  becoming  fortitude,  is  still  hard 
for  those  of  us  who  love  and  respect  her,  to  bear. 
We  will  revere  her  memory  as  a  martyr's." 

During  this  dialogue  each  man  sat  on  his  horse, 
without  any  movement,  and  spoke  in  measured,  formal, 
automatic  tones.  Maynard's  words  were  quicker 
than  Fitz  Hugh's,  who  held  to  the  slower  fashion  of 
speaking  common  in  the  South.  After  the  last  sen- 
tence spoken  by  Fitz  Hugh,  there  was  a  long  silence. 
They  had  met  for  a  purpose;  their  meeting  was  a 
failure. 

It  seemed  to  both  that  they  could  hear  their  watches 
ticking  away  the  seconds  that  lay  between  Caroline 
Fitz  Hugh  and  death,      Neither  knew  the  agony  suf- 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  185 

fered  by  the  other,  unless  he  judged  that  other  by 
himself.  Neither  had  the  heart  to  terminate  the  in- 
terview, though  both  knew  that  it  was  fruitless.  A 
night  bird  set  up  a  dismal  cry.  It  seemed  a  death 
knell. 

Then  Maynard  broke  the  silence. 

"Colonel,"  he  said  in  a  set  voice,  "remain  here,  or 
meet  me  here  at  any  time  after  an  hour.  It  may  be 
the  small  hours  of  the  morning.  It  will  be,  if  at  all, 
before  sunrise." 

"What  do  you  propose  to  do?" 

"What  I  propose  to  do  neither  you  nor  your  sister 
shall  know  till  it  has  been  accomplished." 

"I  will  remain  here,  or  near  by,  and  at  one  o'clock 
you  will  find  me  where  I  now  am." 

"Adieu,"  cried  Maynard,  as  he  turned  his  horse's 
head  and  galloped  away. 

"Adieu,"  replied  Fitz  Hugh,  in  the  stately  tone  to 
which  he  was  accustomed,  and  raised  his  hat  as 
politely  as  if  he  were  saluting  in  a  ballroom. 

Fitz  Hugh  rejoined  his  companion  and  rode  away 
in  the  direction  of  Ringold,  and  Maynard,  followed  by 
Ratigan,  started  back  toward  their  camp.  Maynard 's 
brain  was  in  a  fever.  Time  had  been  expended  to  no 
gain.  The  small  hours  were  coming  on,  and  only  six 
of  them  would  pass  before  the  event  he  so  much 
dreaded  would  take  place.  He  had  formed  his 
resolve.  Whether  wise  or  foolish,  right  or  wrong, 
practicable  or  impossible,  his  resolution  was  taken. 
Once  determined  upon  his  course,  he  spurred  his 
horse  on  without  thought  of  obstacle.  Turning  from 
the  rough  ground  on  which  he  rode,  he  was  about  to 


1 86  CHICK  AM  A  UGA . 

take  the  road,  on  which  he  might  get  on  faster,  when 
he  was  suddenly  startled  by  the  firing  of  a  bullet  and 
the  sound  that  came  with  it.  The  shot  rang  close  to 
his  ear,  almost  brushing  his  temple. 

Knowing  that  he  had  by  his  carelesness  suddenly 
come  upon  a  Union  vedette,  he  called  out: 

"Cease  firing.     Friends!" 

In  answer  to  a  call  to  advance,  Ratigan  rode  for- 
ward and  found  a  vedette,  who  had  mistaken  them  for 
an  enemy.  On  making  themselves  known  they  were 
suffered  to  pass  on,  and  Maynard,  feeling  that  he  was 
too  incautious  to  lead,  gave  way  to  Ratigan.  They 
proceeded  on  their  way  with  more  caution,  and  passed 
through  a  gap  in  the  ridge  leading  to  Reed's  Bridge. 

The  good  footing  of  the  road  enabled  them,  after 
getting  well  into  their  lines,  to  proceed  rapidly.  After 
they  had  passed  the  ridge,  they  left  the  road  and 
turned  northward.     Soon  after  they  reached  camp. 


XIX. 

IN    THE    SHADOW    OF    DEATH. 

ONCE  inside  his  tent  Colonel  Maynard  said: 
"Corporal,  I  want  you   to  get  me    the  uniform  of 
a  private  soldier.     You   must  do  so  without  exciting 
suspicion." 

"Oi  don't  know  how  Oi'll  do  't,  colonel,  witho"  t 
going  back  to  me  own  camp." 

"I  fear  that  will  take  too  long.  Can't  you  steal 
one  from  one  of  the  tents  near  by?" 

"Oi  moight  be  able  to  do  't,  an'  Oi  might  spend  the 
whole  night  trying.  Oi  can  get  one  at  me  camp 
certain." 

"I  would  take  your  jacket,  but  I  want  your  assist- 
ance. There's  no  other  way  but  for  you  to  go  to 
your  camp." 

"Colonel,  Oi'll  ride  hard." 

"Ride,  and  remember  that  every  moment  is  worth 
years  at  any  other  time." 

Ratigan  lost  no  time  in  mounting,  and  was  soon 
galloping  on  his  way.  Once  out  of  the  camp  from 
which  he  started  he  found  no  guards  to  pass,  and  was 
able  to  drive  his  horse  to  the  utmost.  The  night 
before  he  had  chased  the  woman  whom  he  had  then 
known  as  Betsy  Baggs  in  a  mad  race  to  capture  her; 
now  he  was  tearing  along  in  a  mad  race  to  save  her 

*87 


1 88  CHICKAMAUGA. 

from  the  consequences  of  his  capture.  Past  woods 
and  waters  flew  the  corporal,  over  bridges  and  hills, 
through  hollows  and  rivulets,  till  he  came  to  his  own 
camp.  There  he  at  once  sought  the  quarters  of  pri- 
vate Flanagan. 

"Flanagan,"  he  cried,  shaking  the  private,  "ye'r 
wanted." 

Flanagan,  seeing  the  corporal  bending  over  him,  and 
supposing  he  was  aroused  to  go  on  some  duty,  got  up 
at  once. 

"Nevermind  putting  on  ye'r  clothes,"  said  Rati- 
gan,  "do  'em  in  a  bundle  and  come  along.  Ye'r 
wanted  for  a  special  duty,  and  that  right  quick." 

"Duty  in  me  drawers,  is  it?  How  would  Oi  look 
foighten  that  way?  But  all  right,  carporal,"  and 
Flanagan,  gathering  up  his  belongings,  followed  Rati- 
gan  outside  the  tent  and  away  from  his  slumbering 
tent  mates. 

"Flanagan,"  said  Ratigan. 

"What  is  it,  carporal?" 

"Let  me  take  ye'r  clothes,  and  ask  no  questions." 

"Take  'em.  And  divil  a  question  will  I  ask  except 
what  ye  do  be  wanten  'em  for." 

Ratigan  seized  the  bundle  and,  with  an  injunction 
to  Flanagan  to  keep  his  mouth  shut  if  he  wanted  to 
save  himself  from  future  trials,  mounted  his  horse 
and  was  again  flying  over  the  ground  back  to  Colonel 
Maynard's  headquarters. 

It  was  now  the  small  hours  of  the  night.  The  cor- 
poral cast  his  eye  to  the  east  and  saw  a  faint  streak  of 
white  light  there.  Digging  his  spurs  into  his  beast's 
flanks  and  urging  him  with  his  voice  at  the  same  time, 


CHICKAMAUGA.  189 

rider  and  horse  sped  on  in  a  race  between  life  and 
death, 

"Goon,  ye  beast,"  cried  the  corporal.  "Go  on, 
me  darlin'.  Stretch  ye'r  cussed  legs;  for  I  don't  care 
if  ye  kill  yersilf  if  we  lose  no  time.  What's  ye'r  loife 
compared  with  hers?  On  with  ye,  me  beauty.  Win 
the  race  with  the  sun  that  is  showing  his  light  there, 
and  Oi'U  worship  ye  forever." 

With  such  contradictory  and  incoherent  phrases 
Ratigan  urged  his  horse  till  he  could  go  no  faster. 
Again  did  hills,  vales,  woods,  waters,  fences  fly  by, 
till  at  last  the  corporal  dismounted  at  the  camp  he 
rode  for,  and  in  a  moment  was  in  Colonel  Maynard's 
lent. 

The  corporal  started  back.  A  man  stood  there 
whom  he  did  not  recognize  for  a  feiv  moments  as 
Colonel  Maynard.  He  had  no  beard,  while  the  colo- 
nel had  had  a  heavy  one.  His  hair  and  eyebrows 
were  black,  while  the  colonel's  were  light,  and  the  hair 
which  had  hung  below  his  hat  in  short  curls  was  now 
cropped. 

"Give  me  the  clothes,  quick," 

The  corporal  handed  him  the  bundle  and  Maynard 
lost  no  time  in  getting  into  them, 

"Corporal,"  said  the  colonel,  "let  me  explain  what 
I  am  about  to  do,  I  know  something  of  the  blood 
that  flows  in  the  veins  of  Caroline  Fitz  Hugh.  She 
will  never  accept  her  life  at  the  price  I  intend  to  pay 
for  it.  She  must  not  know  that  I  intend  to  save 
her  by  violating  a  trust,  by  incurring  my  own  down- 
fall, or  she  will  not  leave  her  jail.  Do  you  under- 
stand?" 


ipo  CHICKAMAUGA. 

"I  do,  colonel.  She  would  chide  me  if  she  knew 
I  was  doing  the  same." 

"While  you  have  been  away  I  have  placed  three 
horses  in  the  wood  yonder." 

"I  see,  colonel." 

"Corporal  Ratigan,  every  man  has  his  own  part  in 
life  to  perform.  The  distinctive  feature  in  mine 
seems  to  be  to  decide  quickly  between  conflicting 
duties.  I  am  going  to  violate  a  trust,  to  perform  a 
sacred  obligation.     If  you  will  aid  me,  follow  me." 

Taking  up  a  slip  of  paper  lying  on  his  camp  cot,  on 
which  he  had  written  an  order,  the  two  left  the  tent. 
They  were  challenged  by  the  sentry  on  post,  but 
giving  the  countersign  proceeded  till  they  were  again 
challenged  by  the  guard  at  the  temporary  prison. 
There  the  colonel  advanced  and  gave  the  countersign, 
and  passed  into  the  house. 

The  sergeant  in  charge  met  them,  and  asked  what 
they  wanted.  The  colonel  handed  him  the  paper  he 
had  brought  with  him.  It  was  an  order  for  the  per- 
son of  the  prisoner.  The  place  was  only  lighted  by  a 
candle,  and  the  colonel  took  care  to  stand  with  his 
back  to  it.  But  this  was  not  necessary,  for  his  dis- 
guise was  complete.  Corporal  Ratigan  remained 
without  the  door,  on  the  porch. 

The  sergeant  looked  from  the  paper  to  the  man 
who  stood  before  him,  inquiringly, 

"This  is  very  strange,"  he  said. 

Maynard  made  no  reply. 

"Here  is  Colonel  Maynard's  order,"  the  sergeant 
added,  reading  it  over  again,  "do  you  know  what  he 
wants  with  her?" 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  1 9 1 

"Do  you  suppose  I  don't  know  any  better  than  to 
ask  questions  when  I  get  an  order?"  replied  the 
spurious  private  gruiifiy. 

"And  I  suppose  you  think  I've  no  business  to  do 
so  either.  There's  all  sorts  of  games  practiced  in 
these  cases,  but  an  order's  an  order,  and,  as  you  say, 
I've  no  business  to  ask  questions  when  I  get  one." 

"Well,  then,  don't  keep  me  waiting.  1  don't  care 
what  Colonel  Maynard  wants  with  the  prisoner;  he's 
sent  me  for  her  with  a  written  order,  and  that's  all 
there  is  about  it." 

The  sergeant  went  into  the  room  where  Miss  Fitz 
Hugh  was  confined  and  led  her  out,  pale  and  won- 
dering. 

"It  isn't  sunrise,"  she  said,  in  a  voice  which  it  was 
difficult  for  her  to  keep  from  breaking. 

"Come,"  said  the  colonel.  She  followed  him  to 
the  porch  and  Corporal  Ratigan  joined  them,  but  it 
was  too  dark  for  the  prisoner  to  see  who  he  was,  and 
he  did  not  dare  to  make  himself  known.  As  soon  as 
they  had  got  to  a  safe  distance  he  whispered: 

"Darlin'." 

"Rats!" 

"Not  a  word  till  we  get  further  away." 

They  walked  on  at  an  ordinary  pace,  though  all 
desired  to  hasten.  After  passing  some  distance  from 
the  house,  Maynard  turned  and  glanced  back.  He 
saw  the  sergeant  watching. 

"We  must  go  to  the  tent,"  he  muttered,  and  the 
three  walked  on.  Before  entering  he  looked  again. 
The  sergeant  was  still  watching.  He  evidently 
wished  to  make  sure  that  all  was  right.     All  entered 


1 9  2  CHICK  A  MA  UGA . 

the  tent,  while  the  colonel,  standing  at  the  front  and 
peering  between  the  tent  flaps,  watched  for  the  ser- 
geant to  go  back  into  the  house.  Presently  he  did  so 
and  left  the  way  clear. 

"Now  come  on." 

Leaving  the  tent  they  walked  a  short  distance  down 
the  road.  Not  a  word  was  spoken.  Presently  they 
turned  aside  and  entered  the  wood.  There  they 
found  the  horses. 

"Mount,"  said  the  colonel  to  the  prisoner. 

Putting  a  foot  in  his  hand  she  sprang  up  onto  a 
horse's  back.  There  was  no  sidesaddle  for  her,  but 
the  high  front  of  a  "McClellan"  served  very  well,  and 
she  was  so  good  a  horsewoman  that  she  could  have 
ridden  sideways  on  the  animal's  bare  back.  The  stir- 
rup was  fitted,  the  colonel  and  Ratigan  mounted,  and 
the  three  rode  rapidly  away. 

"We  must  dodge  the  picket,"  said  the  colonel. 
"Even  the  countersign  might  not  avail  us  with  a 
woman  in  the  party." 

"What  does  it  all  mean.  Rats?"  asked  Miss  Fitz 
Hugh.  "I  thought  you  were  going  to  do  your  duty 
at  all  hazards." 

"Well,  there's  different  kinds  of  duties,  and  some- 
times they  won't  work  together.  If  saving  a  woman's 
life  isn't  a  duty,  then  me  mother  didn't  bring  me  up 
right." 

"Who's  the  other?"  she  asked,  while  Maynard  was 
riding  a  little  in  advance. 

"One  who  this  night  makes  me  his  slave." 

"And  I  from  this  night  will  be  indebted  for  my  life 
to  both  of  you,  if  you  succeed   in    saving  it.     But  I 


CHlCk\4  MA  VGA .  193 

can't  bear  to  have  you  sacrifice  yourselves  for  me. 
You  may  be  committing  an  unpardonable  sin  toward 
your  comrades,  but  I  cannot  believe  you  are  commit- 
ting a  sin  toward  Our  Father.  And  one  day  it  will 
be  all  ended,  Rats:  and  then  who  will  care?" 

"Oi  know  those  who  will  rejoice." 

Ratigan  now  took  the  lead,  having  passed  over  the 
route  before  several  times,  and  being  familiar  with 
the  best  way  to  get  between  the  vedettes.  Colonel 
Maynard  dropped  back  beside  the  prisoner. 

"Who  are  you?"  she  asked. 

"One  who  serves  you." 

The  voice  sounded  familiar,  but  was  disguised,  and 
she  did  not  recognize  it  as  Colonel  Maynard's. 

"Were  you  sent  by  Colonel  Maynard?" 

"No." 

"Why  should  you  try  to  save  me?" 

"Ask  me  rather  why  I  should  not." 

It  was  plain  the  man,  whoever  he  might  be,  desired 
to  remain  unknown,  and  she  desisted  from  further 
questioning. 

"After  all  my  death  would  not  profit  the  Federal 
cause,"  she  said.  "My  lips  will  be  sealed  to  any 
information  I  may  possess." 

"Your  information  would  be  too  late  in  any  event. 
Had  it  been  otherwise  this  plan  would  not  have 
been  attempted." 

"Why  so?" 

"Your  commander-in-chief  of  the  Army  of  Tennes- 
see has  delayed  too  long  already.  He  will  attack  us 
almost  immediately.  Your  information  would  not 
now  hasten  that  attack." 


1 94  CHICK  AM  A  VGA . 

"How  do  you  know?" 

"We  have  captured  prisoners  showing  that  your 
men  have  been  reinforced  from  Knoxville  and  Vir- 
ginia. General  Bragg  has  ceased  to  retreat  and  is 
about  to  fall  upon  us  with  a  concentrated  army." 

"You  are  right  in  assuming  that  neither  you  nor  I 
can  have  any  influence  for  or  against  either  side  now. 
These  troops  have  been  coming  from  Virginia  for  a 
month.  They  are  nearly  all  arrived  ;  you  may  expect 
to  hear  the  opening  shot  of  a  great  battle  at  any 
moment." 

The  corporal,  who  was  in  front,  reined  in  his  horse 
and  held  up  his  hand  in  warning.  They  were  on  the 
edge  of  a  wood  and  within  a  few  hundred  yards  of 
the  creek,  and  could  see  to  the  right  and  to  the  left. 

"My  God!"  exclaimed  the  corporal,  "there  are 
vedettes  there,  and  vedettes  there,"  pointing  north 
and  south.  "And  they  are  both  coming  this  way. 
We  must  go  back." 

Colonel  Maynard  rode  forward  to  sec.  He  glanced 
at  both  parties  of  vedettes,  then  in  front  of  him. 
From  that  front  at  that  moment  there  came  a  horse's 
neigh.  It  was  answered  by  a  neigh  from  behind  the 
three  on  the  edge  of  the  wood. 

"Your  people  are  where  that  horse  neighed.  Can 
you  keep  your  seat  in  the  saddle  for  a  dash?" 

"Yes." 

"We  are  surrounded;  it  is  the  only  chance.  Are 
you  prepared?     Ready!     Go!" 

The  two  men  dug  their  spurs  into  their  horses' 
flanks  and  all  three  shot  out  toward  the  creek.  They 
had    not    gone  a  hundred  yards    before    they  heard: 


WlCl^AMA  UGA.  1 95 

"Halt  there,"  immediately  followed  by  a  shot; 
They  paid  no  attention  to  either,  but  dashed  on  over 
the  uneven  ground,  the  two  men  riding  close  on 
either  side  the  prisoner  for  fear  she  would  lose  her 
balance.  Her  horse  stumbled,  but  recovered.  A 
volley  came  from  the  vedettes  riding  from  the  south, 
but  no  one  was  hit.  In  crossing  a  gully  Miss  Fitz 
Hugh  tottered  sideways,  but  Maynard  caught  her  and 
righted  her. 

"On,  on,"  he  said,  "a  few  hundred  yards  and  you 
are  saved." 

Then  came  another  volley;  this  time  from  the  party 
advancing  from  the  north.  Corporal  Ratigan  swayed 
in  his  saddle,  but  recovered  himself. 

"They  are  advancing  to  meet  us!  Quick!  Down 
the  bank!     Through  here!   it  is  not  knee  deep!" 

A  third  volley  came,  but  it  did  no  harm.  It  was 
too  late  to  stop  the  fugitives  now.  They  rode  right 
into  a  party  of  Confederate  officers. 

Friends  gathered  about  Miss  Fitz  Hugh.  Her 
brother,  being  in  presence  of  others,  restrained  his 
desire  to  throw  his  arms  about  her  neck.  He  lifted 
his  hat  to  her  as  politely  as  if  she  were  as  nearly 
related  to  the  rest  as  to  himself,  then  took  her  hand 
and  kissed  it.  Suddenly,  in  the  midst  of  a  shower  of 
congratulations — a  wild,  irrepressible  cheer  that 
burst  spontaneously  from  the  party,  Caroline  Fitz 
Hugh  gave  a  shriek.  Corporal  Ratigan  had  fallen 
from  his  horse,  and  lay  white  and  bleeding  on  the 
ground.  Springing  from  her  own  horse  she  bent  over 
him  and  raised  his  head. 

"O  God!   he's  dead." 


XX. 

THE    DARKEST    HOUR. 

THE  cheer,  the  shriek,  Miss  Fitz  Hugh's  words, 
sounded  in  Colonel  Maynard's  ears  as  he  put 
spurs  to  his  horse  and  dashed  away  up  the  stream  in 
a  direction  parallel  with  the  Union  lines.  The  cheer 
was  the  announcement  of  the  completion  of  an  act  by 
which  he  had  parted  with  what  he  held  most  dear,  the 
confidence  of  his  superiors,  his  peers,  and  the  rank 
and  file  of  the  army.  He  had  given  to  Caroline  Fitz 
Hugh  to  see  the  rising  of  the  sun  whose  light  was 
now  broadening  in  the  east.  He  had  called  down 
upon  himself  what  to  him  was  the  bitterest  of  all 
degradation ;  perhaps  to  meet  the  fate  that  had  been 
intended  for  her.  Riding  up  the  creek  on  the  bank 
nearest  the  Confederate  lines  he  approached  a  wood. 
This  he  entered,  crossed  the  creek  unobserved,  and 
emerged  to  see  the  men  by  whom  the  escaping  party 
had  been  chased  returning  toward  the  ridge.  Not 
caring  to  be  questioned  by  them  he  rode  back  into  the 
wood  until  they  were  in  a  position  not  to  see  him; 
then  he  trotted  slowly  to  the  ridge  and  over  it,  mak- 
ing his  way  back  to  his  tent. 

It  was  now  broad  dayliglit.  As  he  dismounted  he 
noticed  a  detachment  of  cavalry  marching  on  foot, 
under  the  direction  of  an  officer,  toward  the  house 
where  Miss  Fitz  Hugh  had  been  confined.     On  arriv- 

ia6 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA.  1 9  7 

ing  there  they  halted  and  the  officer  went  inside.  In 
a  few  minutes  he  came  out  and  strode  over  to  Colonel 
Maynard's  tent.  The  colonel  had  gone  in.  He  had 
thrown  off  his  cavalry  jacket  and  was  waiting  for  what 
was  to  follow.  The  officer  entered  the  tent  and,  not 
recognizing  Maynard,  shorn  of  his  beard,  asked  for 
the  colonel  commanding. 

"I  am  Colonel  Maynard." 

"Ah!  I  did  not  recognize  you,  colonel.  I  have 
just  called  for  the  spy  in  the  house  where  I  expected 
to  find  her,  and  was  told  by  the  sergeant  that  he  had 
delivered  her  soon  after  midnight  to  two  men  bearing 
an  order  from  you." 

"Well?" 

"I  suspect  something  must  be  wrong.  Was  the 
order  a  forgery?" 

"No." 

"Then  the  prisoner  is  in  your  keeping?" 

"No." 

"Escaped?" 

"Yes." 

The  officer  was  too  astonished  to  ask  any  more 
questions  at  once. 

"Who  is  responsible?"  he  asked  presently. 

"I  am." 

"You?" 

"Yes,  I.  You  will  march  your  men  back  to  camp. 
You  need  not  make  any  official  report  of  the  matter 
unless  you  choose.  I  will  report  the  escape  my- 
self." 

The  officer  bowed  and,  with  tlie  same  astonisliment 
on  his   face  that  had   been   there  throughout,  turned 


1 9§  CHICK  AM  A  UGA. 

from  the  tent,  and  going  to  the  men  standing  In  the 
road  marched  them  back  to  camp. 

Colonel  Maynard  came  out  of  his  tent  and  mount- 
ing his  horse  rode  to  the  headquarters  of  his  division 
commander.  He  rode  slowly,  his  head  bowed  almost 
to  his  saddlebow.  Reining  up  before  the  general's 
tent  he  sent  in  his  name  by  an  orderly,  and  was  soon 
admitted. 

"General,"  he  said,  "I  have  come  to  prefer 
charges." 

"Indeed,"  said  the  general.  "Why  not  forward 
them  in  writing  in  the  regular  way?" 

"It  is  because  of  the  person  against  whom  I  am 
going  to  prefer  them." 

"And  that  is?" 

"Myself." 

The  general  looked  at  him  with  a  puzzled  expres- 
sion. 

"Colonel,  are  you  ill?" 

"No,  general." 

"I  suppose  it  would  be  ridiculous  to  ask  a  man  if 
he  is  all  right  here?"  and  he  tapped  his  forehead 
with  his  finger. 

"I  am  sound  of  mind  and  body." 

"Well,  well,  colonel,  what  does  it  all  mean;  it's 
too  early  in  the  morning  for  joking,"  and  the 
general  yawned. 

"I  have  to  report  that  the  spy  left  in  my  charge  has 
escaped,  and  through  my  connivance." 

"Good  Lord!"  exclaimed  the  general,  "that  is  z. 
serious  matter." 

Maynard  remained  silent. 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA.  1 9  9 

"And  the  explanation?" 

"There  is  none." 

The  general  looked  into  the  melancholy  eye  of 
Colonel  Maynard,  and  felt  a  cold  chill  creep  over  him. 
He  knew  there  was  some  reason  for  the  act  which 
would  explain,  if  not  excuse  it. 

"Colonel,  you  are  a  dashing  fellow,  with  a  tinge  of 
romance  in  your  nature.  I  trust  you  have  not 
yielded  to  an  absurd  notion  as  to  taking  the  life  of  a 
woman." 

"No.     I  have  not." 

"Then  give  me  some  explanation.  I  fear  it  will 
go  hard  with  you,  but  I  will  do  all  I  can  for  you  if 
you  can  give  a  satisfactory  reason." 

"I  have  no  reason  to  give." 

"Of  course  I  must  report  the  matter.  Better  speak 
now;  it  may  be  too  late  hereafter." 

"I  have  reported  the  fact.  That  is  all  the  report 
I  have  to  make." 

"Then,  colonel,  it  is  my  duty  to  order  you  to  your 
tent  under  arrest.  You  may  leave  your  sword  here 
with  me,    if  you    please.     An    order  will    be   issued 

placing  Colonel next  in  rank,   in  charge  of  your 

brigade." 

Colonel  Maynard  unhooked  his  sword  from  his 
belt,  and  handed  it  to  the  general.  Then  he  rode 
back  to  his  tent,  and  as  he  entered  it  he  felt  that  he 
had  left  his  former  self  outside;  that,  as  in  the  case  of 
a  fallen  comrade,  he  would  never  see  this  being  of  the 
past  again.  As  for  his  present  self,  that,  if  suffered 
to  live,  could  only  live  a  life  in  death. 

The  news  of  the  singular  act  by  one  of  its  most 


200  CHICK  AM  A  UGA. 

promising,  its  most  popular  colonels,  rapidly  spread 
among  the  army.  It  was  received  with  different  feel- 
ings by  different  persons.  Some  were  so  averse  to  the 
shooting  of  a  woman  that,  if  they  had  had  a  reasonable 
explanation,  they  would  gladly  have  excused  the  act  in 
their  hearts,  though  they  could  not  but  condemn  it 
openly.  To  the  great  majority  it  was  a  traitorous 
breach  of  trust,  a  violation  of  all  the  instincts  of  a 
soldier,  that  could  merit  no  less  punishment  than  that 
which  had  been  intended  for  the  prisoner.  Knots  of 
men  discussed  it  at  the  mess  tables  of  officers  and  by 
the  camp  fires  of  the  soldiers.  All  regretted  that  the 
blow  had  fallen  on  Colonel  Maynard,  so  young, 
so  recklessly  brave,  so  promising ;  and  there  was 
scarcely  a  man  who  did  not  secretly  rejoice  that  the 
Army  of  the  Cumberland  had  been  spared  the  obloquy 
of  executing  a  woman.  It  was  supposed  that  the  spy 
carried  important  information  ;  that  she  possessed  dis- 
patches which  would  seriously  endanger  the  army, 
and  this  fact  tended  to  bring  down  most  of  the  con- 
demnation which  fell  upon  the  man  who  had  assisted 
her  to  escape. 

The  result  of  this  feeling  was  the  ordering  of  a 
court-martial  to  try  Colonel  Maynard  with  as  much 
dispatch  as  had  attended  the  trial  of  the  escaped 
woman.  The  charge  was  "giving  aid  and  comfort  to 
the  enemy,"  the  specification  "himself  aiding  in  the 
escape  of  a  spy  in  the  service  of  said  enemy." 

The  court  met  on  the  afternoon  of  the  day  on 
which  Maynard  had  reported  his  act.  Men  of  his 
own  grade,  or  near  it,  sat  about  a  pine  table  in  a  wall 
tent  and  proceeded  with  the  formalities  attending  the 


CHICKAMAUGA.  20 1 

case.  As  Maynard  pleaded  guilty  to  both  charge  and 
specification,  there  was  little  to  do  except  to  come  to 
a  verdict.  Before  doing  so  the  president  asked  the 
accused  if  he  had  anything  to  say  in  his  behalf,  any 
explanation  to  make. 

"No,"  was  his  reply. 

"Colonel  Maynard,"  said  the  president,  "you  have 
served  this  army  with  distinction.  You  have  been 
respected,  trusted,  beloved  as  few  other  men  in  it. 
You  have  confessed  to  having  committed  one  of  the 
most  atrocious  crimes  that  can  come  under  the  juris- 
diction of  a  military  court.  Nothing  can  excuse  it. 
There  may  be  something  to  palliate  it.  I  conjure  you 
to  speak  before  the  court  brings  in  a  verdict  and 
names  your  punishment." 

"Mr.  President,"  replied  Maynard,  "for  my  act 
toward  this  army  I  am  accountable  to  you  as  a  court- 
martial  convened  to  try  me;  for  my  act  as  one  of 
right  or  wrong,  of  honor  or  dishonor,  I  am  account- 
able only  to  a  tribunal  with  which  you  have  nothing 
to  do.  Do  not  waste  valuable  time.  Before  the  sun 
sets  twice,  if  I  mistake  not,  you  will  have  a  more  im- 
portant work  to  do  in  the  reception  of  the  enemy. 
Do  your 'duty  as  a  court,  and  do  it  with  dispatch." 

There  was  not  an  officer  present  but  looked  at 
Maynard  with  a  curious  admiration.  It  was  plain 
that  he  had  sacrificed  himself,  though  it  was  not 
entirely  plain  why.  Even  those  who  condemned  him 
most  bitterly  seemed  to  hesitate  to  bring  in  a  verdict 
which  would  naturally  carry  with  it  the  punishment 
pf  death. 

"You  are  mistaken,  colonel,"  said  one  of  them, 


202  CHICK  A  MA  UGA . 

referring  to  Maynard's  predictions,  "the  enemy  have 
been  in  full  retreat  ever  since  we  left  Murfreesboro. 
I  only  fear  he's  going  to  give  us  the  slip  again." 

"I  regret  your  confidence,  sir,"  replied  Maynard. 
"I  am  aware  that  others  feel  as  you  do;  and  it  is  a 
mistake  which  will  cost  this  army  dear," 

"Nonsense.     Haven't  we " 

"This  is  not  the  place  to  discuss  problems  for  which 
only  our  commanding  general  is  responsible,"  inter- 
rupted the  president.  "Let  the  prisoner  leave  the 
court." 

Maynard  was  led  away,  and  the  court  proceeded  to 
consider  a  verdict.  There  was  little  time  spent  on  it, 
for  there  was  but  one  thing  to  do,  and  that  was  to 
make  it  "guilty  of  the  charge,  and  guilty  of  the  speci- 
fication." Then  began  a  discussion  of  the  punish- 
ment. One  of  the  members  stated  that  it  was  person- 
ally known  to  him  for  a  fact  that  the  accused  had  one 
year  before  visited  Chattanooga  as  a  spy,  when  the 
place  was  held  by  the  Confederates,  had  been  cap- 
tured, tried,  condemned,  and  sentenced  to  be  hanged. 
That  Jacob  Slack,  a  boy  who  was  now  serving  as  his 
orderly,  had  been  with  him ;  that  he  had  contrived  to 
get  news  of  Maynard's  condition  to  Missouri  Slack, 
his  sister,  at  Jasper,  Tennessee;  that  she  had  gone  to 
Chattanooga,  had  entered  his  jail,  had  exchanged 
clothes  with  the  prisoner,  and  thus  effected  his 
escape;  that  he  had  been  concealed,  and  afterward 
helped  through  the  lines,  by  a  Miss  Fain,  whom  he 
had  married  on  reaching  the  Union  lines.  "I  put  it 
to  you,  gentlemen,"  he  concluded,  "could  one  whose 
life  had  been  saved  by  women,  carry  out  a  sentence  of 


CHICK  AM  A  UGA.  203 

death  upon  a  woman  for  the  same  offense  for  which  it 
was  intended  he  should  suffer?" 

The  speaker  knew  nothing  of  the  relations  existing 
between  Maynard  and  Fitz  Hugh.  It  is  impossible 
to  know  what  might  have  been  the  effect  had  he  pos- 
sessed this  knowledge.  The  court  acted  only  on  the 
information  communicated  by  the  officer  who  told  the 
story  of  Maynard's  experience  as  a  spy,  and  the  main 
facts  in  this  were  known  throughout  the  army.  The 
circumstances  of  the  accused's  sentence  by  Confeder- 
ates to  be  hanged  for  a  spy  and  his  escape,  the  valu- 
able service  he  had  rendered  the  Union  cause,  the 
reasons  he  had  for  not  wishing  to  shoot  a  woman, 
saved  his  life.  The  sentence  of  the  court  was  that  he 
be  dismissed  the  service  with  forfeiture  of  all  pay  and 
emoluments. 

When  this  sentence  was  communicated  to  Colonel 
Maynard,  he  was  in  his  tent,  waiting  to  know  his  fate. 
He  had  expected  to  be  shot.  He  hardly  knew 
whether  he  was  more  moved  by  the  leniency  shown 
him,  or  more  disappointed  at  being  obliged  to  live  a 
disgraced  man.  But  one  reason  gave  him  comfort 
that  he  was  not  to  die:  his  wife.  He  knew  that, 
although  all  others  looked  upon  him  with  horror,  she 
would  love  him  all  the  more  that  he  suffered. 


XXI. 

A    MILITARY    PROBLEM. 

THE  events  attending  the  capture  and  escape  of 
Caroline  Fitz  Hugh,  and  the  dismissal  of  Colonel 
Maynard  from  the  service,  all  happened  in  such  quick 
succession  that  Jakey  Slack  was  not  aware  of  what 
was  taking  place  until  after  it  was  all  over.  It  must 
be  confessed  that  Maynard  had  not  treated  his  most 
devoted  adherent  with  the  consideration  he  merited. 
But  it  is  the  way  of  people  who  are  rising  to  eminence 
to  gradually  leave  off  familiarity  with  those  formerly 
most  intimate  with  them.  Maynard  had  treated  Jakey 
with  mock  deference,  but  had  not  thought  of  leaning 
upon  him  for  advice  or  strength,  much  less  comfort, 
and  during  the  raging  of  the  fire  through  which  he 
had  passed  Jakey  Slack  had  been  as  far  from  his  mind 
as  if  he  had  not  existed. 

One  evening  as  "retreat"  was  sounding — it  was  the 
evening  of  the  colonel's  deposition  from  his  rank  and 
command — Jakey  walked  into  his  tent.  Maynard's 
head  was  bowed  down  on  his  camp  cot.  Hearing 
someone  enter  he  looked  up  and  saw  his  old  friend. 
Had  Jakey  been  another  boy,  when  he  saw  the  hag- 
gard look,  the  strongly  marked  lines  of  suffering  in 
the  face  before  him,  he  would  have  shown  some  mark 
of  the  effect  such  a  sight  had  upon  him.  Not  so 
Jakey.     There  was  no  expression  either  of  surprise  or 

204 


CHICKAMAUGA.  205 

grief  upon  his  unexpressive  countenance.  But  the 
sight  of  Jakey  standing  there  to  remind  him  that, 
though  a  whole  army  condemned  liim,  there  was  one 
in  it  who  never  could  be  brought  to  think  him  guilty 
of  any  crime,  had  a  different  effect  on  the  late  com- 
mander. He  reached  out  his  hand,  took  that  of 
Jakey  and,  drawing  the  boy  toward  him,  folded  him  in 
his  arms.  Thus  do  those  who  have  been  deprived  of 
their  greatness  go  back  for  sympathy  to  those  from 
whom  they  have  farthest  departed. 

Maynard  held  the  boy  against  his  breast,  while  he 
gave  way  to  convulsive  sobs  such  as  are  unusual  in  a 
man,  and  only  come  when  some  mental  struggle  under 
an  intense  grief  is  relaxed,  and  suffering  permitted  to 
get  control.  Neither  spoke.  Jakey's  presence  re- 
minded Maynard  the  more  keenly  of  those  he  loved. 
His  mind  had  been  upon  his  wife  and  child.  Jakey's 
coming  brought  also  Souri's  image,  and  the  trials  and 
triumphs  which  he  and  Jakey  and  Souri  had  once 
passed  together;  and  trials  and  triumphs  borne  in 
company  weld  hearts.  Of  all  who  loved  him  only 
Jakey  was  there,  and  on  him  alone  could  he  rely  for 
comfort. 

At  last  Jakey  withdrew  himself  from  his  friend's 
embrace.  He  had  permitted  him  to  indulge  his  grief 
for  a  few  minutes,  and  this  he  considered  quite  long 
enough. 

"General,"  he  began.  He  had  always  called  his 
chief  "general,"  contending  that  he  was  a  general 
since  he  commanded  a  brigade. 

"No  more  of  that,  Jakey ;  I  am  only  Maynard  now, 
Mark  Maynard.    Mark  is  a  good  enough  name  for  me," 


2o6  CHICK  A  MA  UG.  I . 

"Wal,  that  don'  make  no  differ.  You 'tins  got  th" 
same  body,  'n  arms,  'n  legs,  'n  all  thet.  Hev  y' 
done  th'  fust  thing  fo'  ter  do?" 

"What's  that,  Jakey?" 

"Tell  Mrs.  Maynard." 

"Jakey,  I  can't." 

"Recken  she'll  hev  ter  know  't  some  time." 

"There's  going  to  be  a  battle.  No  court  can  keep 
me  from  shouldering  a  musket  or  wielding  a  sabre. 
I'll  go  into  the  fight  that's  coming,  and  never  come 
out  of  it.     Then  she'll  not  need  to  know  it." 

"VVhat  makes  y'  think  ther's  goen  ter  be  a  fight?" 

"I  would  not  have  the  intuitions  of  a  soldier  if  I 
did  not." 

"Y'  haint  General  Rosey." 

"Nor  do  I  need  to  be  General  Rosey  to  divine  what's 
coming.  Do  you  suppose  I  knew  any  more  about  war 
with  eagles  on  my  shoulders  than  in  a  private's  uni- 
form? If  there  were  some  superior  being  to  look  into 
the  heads  of  the  men  composing  this  army,  and  readjust 
the  rank  in  accordance  with  fitness,  many  a  star  would 
leave  the  shoulder  where  it  now  rests  to  light  on  that 
of  some  obscure  private." 

''Wal,  ef  we  fight  'em  won't  we  wnip  'em?" 

Jakey  noticed  that,  with  the  change  of  his  friend's 
mind  from  his  grief  to  war,  there  was  an  immediate 
improvement  from  the  terrible  depression  upon  him. 
He  asked  the  question  for  the  purpose  of  keeping 
Maynard's  attention  fixed  for  a  time  on  war,  rather 
than  for  information. 

"Whip  'em?  Why,  Jakey,  we're  scattered  all  over 
creation,''     He  dipped  his  finger  in  a  tin  cup  full  of 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  207 

water  and  began  to  draw  a  rude  map  on  the  top  of  an 
extemporized  table,  consisting  of  a  square  board  nailed 
on  a  stake  driven  in  the  ground. 

"Here's  the  Chickamauga  flowing  between  these  two 
ridges,  Missionary  and  the  Pigeon  Mountains,  from 
south  to  north  into  the  Tennessee.  Crittenden's 
corps  is  here  at  Lee  and  Gordon's  Mill.  Thomas' 
corps  has  just  passed  through  Stevens'  Gap  down  here, 
ten  or  a  dozen  miles  from  Crittenden,  while  McCook 
is  at  Alpine,  twenty  miles  away  from  Thomas.  JVe 
are  off  here,  near  Reed's  Bridge,  the  tip  of  the  left 
wing,  forty  miles  from  McCook,  the  tip  of  the  right 
wing. 

"Bragg  is  here  at  Lafayette,  on  the  east  side  of  the 
Pigeon  Mountains,  and  opposite  our  center  at  Craw- 
fish Springs,  where  he  can  strike  any  one  of  our  corps 
separately.  He  can  ride  up  onto  the  Pigeon  Moun- 
tains and,  looking  down  on  the  valley  of  the  Chicka- 
mauga, see  just  where  we  are  located.  I  was  up  there 
myself  the  other  day  with  a  reconnoitering  party  and 
came  upon  one  of  his  scouts,  looking  at  us  very  much 
as  one  would  survey  a  barnyard  of  fat  turkeys  before 
Christmas." 

He  paused,  and  seemed  lost  in  some  attendant  prob- 
lem.    Presently  he  added  absently : 

"All  I'd  be  afraid  of  would  be  delay." 

"What  d'y  mean  by  thet?"  asked  Jakey. 

Maynard  started.  "I  was  thinking  that  I  was  on 
the  other  side,"  he  said.  "You  see,  Jakey,  in  a  mili- 
tary point  of  view  the  beauty  of  the  situation  is  all 
with  the  Confederates," 

"How?" 


2  o8  CHICK  A  MA  UGA . 

"They  can  cut  us  up  in  detail." 

"Wha   'd  you  do  if  you  wor  him  'uns?" 

"I!  I'd  drive  a  wedge  right  in  here  between 
Thomas'  and  Crittenden's  corps.  I'd  destroy  first 
one  and  then  the  other.  After  that  I'd  eat  my  rations 
and  have  plenty  of  time  to  take  care  of  McCook's, 
which  is  too  far  away  even  to  hear  the  guns." 

"That  'ud  be  hunky,"  said  Jakey,  pretending  to 
catch  his  friend's  enthusiasm.  "Pity'  twasn't  t'other 
way  and  we  had  'em  as  they  got  we  'uns.  Mebbe  ef 
you  'uns  wor  in  command  of  our  army  y'  mought  do 
somep'n  fo'  ter  change  th'  siteration." 

"I?" 

"Yes,  what'd  y'  do?" 

"That's  a  poser,  Jakey." 

Maynard  studied  his  improvised  map  for  a  while 
without  speaking,  as  if  it  were  a  chess-board.  At  last 
he  said: 

"General  Rosecrans,  1  learn,  has  ordered  his  scat- 
tered columns  concentrated  at  Crawfish  Springs,  the 
center  of  his  line.  Perhaps  this  is  as  good  a  plan  as 
any,  at  least  if  Bragg  gives  him  time  enough  to  close 
up.  To  me  two  plans  seem  to  be  open.  One  is  to 
demonstrate  along  the  Chickamauga,  principally  with 
cavalry;   while " 

"What's  demonstrate?"  interrupted  the  listener. 

"Make  a  feint,  a  fuss,  pretend  to  have  a  big  force 
and  only  have  a  little  one.  I  would  leave  the  camp- 
fires  burning  at  night,  to  make  them  think  I  was  still 
there,  and  draw  my  army  away  to  Mission  Ridge. 
Moving  backward  on  converging  lines " 

"What's  them?" 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  2  09 


"Lines  coming  to  a  focus " 

"What's  a  focus?" 

"Confound  it,  Jakey,  we'll  be  attacked  and  whipped 
before  I  can  make  you  understand.  These  roads  you 
see  come  together  at  Chattanooga.  From  Chatta- 
nooga, if  necessary,  the  army  could  be  crossed " 

"I  thought  we 'uns  was  a-folleren  them  'uns!"  ob- 
served Jakey,  surprised  at  the  turn  the  campaign  had 
taken. 

"Jakey,  did  you  ever  hear  of  the  man  who  held  his 
adversary  down  by  placing  his  nose  between  that 
adversary's  teeth?" 

"No." 

"Well,  that's  the  way  we're  holding  our  enemy; 
but  your  remark  leads  to  the  other  side  of  the  problem. 
Desperate  diseases  require  desperate  remedies.  If  I 
were  a  general  I'd  never  be  on  the  defensive  if  I  could 
help  it,  cost  what  it  might.  It  sets  a  man  to  wonder- 
ing what  his  enemy  is  going  to  do,  instead  of  doing 
something  himself.  Now  our  southernmost  column 
might  be  pushed  out  here," — putting  his  finger  on  the 
line  denoting  the  Georgia  Central  Railroad, — "to  cut 
the  Confederates'  avenue  for  supplies.  Bragg  might 
turn  and  crush  it,  but  he  can  do  that  now.  The  trouble 
is,  Jakey,  we  need  troops  for  quick  marches  ;  flying  col- 
umns to  move  without  camp  equipage.  Such  a  column 
down  there  could  strike,  retreat,  strike  at  another 
point,  and  so  confuse  an  enemy  that  he  wouldn't  know 
what  was  to  happen  next." 

Jakey  was  too  young  to  understand  the  phases  of 
the  war  problem  in  which  Maynard's  mind  had  become 
engrossed  to  the  obliteration  of  his  trial,  disgrace,  wife. 


2 1  o  CHICK  A  MA  VGA . 

child,  friends,  comrades,  everything  but  the  game  that 
charmed  him.  But  Jakey's  mind  was  as  much  on  his 
friend  as  his  friend's  was  on  the  problem,  and  he  de- 
termined to  go  on  fostering  the  awakened  interest. 
Unmindful  of  the  demonstration  made  thus  far  he 
suddenly  broke  out: 

"Supposen  I  wor  th'  general  commanden  this  hyar 
army  'n  you  'uns  wor  th'  general  commanden  t'other 
army.  Now,  how  would  't  do  fo'  me  ter  march  out  in 
the  middle  o'  the  night  'n  just  knock  the  stuffen  right 
out'n  you'  uns?" 

Maynard  smiled.  It  suddenly  occurred  to  him  how 
little  Jakey  knew  of  the  game  of  war;  how  useless 
had  been  his  explanations. 

"What  would  be  your  plan  of  attack,  general?"  he 
asked,. wishing  to  humor  the  boy. 

"Wal,"  said  Jakey,  who  had  no  more  idea  of  what 
he  was  talking  about  than  the  fourteen-year-old  boy  he 
was,  ''I  reckon  I'd  put  the  big  guns  in  a  long  line  on 
top  'n  th'  Pea  Vine  Ridge  hyar,  'n  jest  scatter  shot  'n 
shell  like  chicken  feed." 

Maynard  burst  into  a  laugh.  Jakey  surveyed  the 
altered  expression  of  his  friend's  face  with  his  bright 
little  eyes  and  chuckled,  but  his  own  face  was  as  im- 
perturbable as  usual. 

"General,"  said  the  boy-commander's  supposititious 
enemy,  "what  would  you  do  if  I  were  to  draw  my 
troops  out  of  range?" 

Jakey  was  puzzled.  He  made  a  desperate  effort  to 
conjure  up  a  reply. 

"Wal,"  he  said  presently,  "I  reckon  I'd  jest  wait 
fo'  you  'uns  ter  do  somep'n." 


chick: A  Ma  uga  .  211 

"Your  ground  would  be  strong  enough  in  itself,  but 
weak  on  the  flanks,  especially  your  left,  and  in  case 
of  retreat  you  would  have  the  creek  to  cross  in  face  of 
an  enemy — a  hazardous  undertaking.  I  would  turn 
your  left  and  get  possession  of  the  roads  to  Chatta- 
nooga. Perhaps  I  could  defeat  you  and  force  you  to 
recross  the  creek.  While  you  were  doing  so  I  would 
knock  you  to  pieces.  If  you  succeeded  in  crossing 
you  would  find  my  troops  in  your  rear  between  you 
and  Chattanooga." 

Jakey  neither  understood  nor  even  heard  a  word  his 
opponent  said,  but  he  looked  as  seriously  studious  over 
the  problem  as  if  he  were  the  general  commanding. 

"Are  you  whipped,  general?"  asked  Maynard. 

"Wal,  mebbe  ef  I  air  whipped  I  don'  know  nothen 
'bout  't,  'n  I'll  jest  go  on  fighten  till  I  make  you  'uns 
think  thet  you  'uns  air  whipped." 

"Like  Grant  at  Pittsburgh  Landing." 

The  reference  Avas  lost  on  Jakey,  but  it  led  him  to 
think  that  he  had  made  a  point ;  he  looked  very  wise 
and  said  nothing.  He  was  thinking  on  a  line  which 
he  feared  might  be  of  some  practical  importance  to  his 
individual  self.  He  was  not  certain  but  that  it  would 
be  necessary  for  him  to  make  the  connecting  link  in 
person  between  his  friend  and  his  friend's  wife.  So 
he  turned  the  conversation  on  lines  of  retreat. 

"Now  suppose,"  he  said,  "just  supposen  I  war 
busted,  right  hyar,  how'd  I  git  away?" 

"That  would  depend  on  the  condition  of  things. 
If  I  were  the  general  opposing  you,  you'd  never  get 
away  safely.  I'd  never  stop  till  I  had  driven  you  into 
the  Tennessee  River." 


512  CHICK  A  MA  UGA  . 

"How  could  I  get  thar  from  hyar?" 

"This  part  of  your  army  where  we  are  now,  could 
only  fall  back  on  Rossville.  There  the  flanks  would  be 
better  protected  for  a  stand.  You  could  go  from  Ross- 
ville to  Chattanooga  by  this  road"  (pointing  to  it  on  the 
map).  "If  you  should  be  successful  in  keeping  your 
enemy  far  enough  from  you  and  long  enough,  you 
might  cross  the  river  there,  and  save  your  army.  You 
might  perhaps  stay  there  if  not  too  reduced  in  num- 
bers, and  if  you  could  keep  your  line  of  supply  open." 

"This  air  th'  bridge  I'd  cross  the  creek  on,  I 
reckon,"  pointing  to  Reed's  Bridge  on  the  map, 

"That's  the  nearest  from  where  we  are." 

"  Wal,  general, ' '  said  Jakey,  in  a  tone  to  indicate  that 
the  discussion  of  the  campaign  was  ended;  "ef  you 
'uns  bust  me  I'll  retreat  that-a-way." 

Nothing  more  was  said  about  the  imaginary  cam- 
paign by  either.  Maynard's  eye  was  fixed  on  his  water 
map,  and  he  was  lost  in  study.  Jakey  let  him  alone  till 
he  saw  that  he  was  drifting  back  to  his  trouble.  Then 
he  endeavored  to  lead  him  into  war  again.  At  last, 
seizing  a  favorable  opportunity,  the  boy  suggested  the 
propriety  of  sending  some  message  to  his  wife. 

"Time  enough  for  that  after  the  fight,"  was  all 
Maynard  would  say.  Jakey  was  discouraged.  He 
knew  that  if  his  friend  lived  after  the  fight  it  would 
not  be  his  own  fault. 


XXII. 

jakey's  announcement. 

JAKEY  considered  himself  bound  in  honor  to  report 
to  Mrs.  Maynard  her  husband's  condition,  not  only 
on  account  of  his  promise  made  her  on  the  evening  of 
his  departure  for  the  front,  but  because  he  had  a  vague 
unformulated  notion  that  there  are  certain  exigencies 
where  only  women  can  "do  somep'n,"  and  he  knew 
that  "the  general"  required  his  wife's  attention. 
There  seemed  to  be  no  way  of  acquainting  her  with 
the  condition  of  affairs  except  to  go  and  tell  her  him- 
self. Jakey,  being  in  the  army,  could  not  leave  it  with- 
out permission.  The  question  was  how  to  get  such 
permission.  Not  being  a  quick  thinker  Jakey  spent 
several  hours  on  the  problem  without  any  result.  At 
last  he  determined  to  make  a  beginning,  at  least,  and 
going  to  the  headquarters  of  the  new  commander  of 
the  brigade,  he  sent  in  word  that  "General"  Maynard's 
clerk  wished  for  an  audience.  Jakey  was  ushered  into 
the  presence  of  a  gray  bearded  colonel,  twenty  years 
older  than  the  late  colonel  commanding,  who  in  Colo- 
nel Maynard's  clerk  expected  to  see  a  soldier  not  less 
than  eighteen  years  old,  and  standing  over  the  regula- 
tion limit  of  five  feet  four.  ^Vhen  little  Jakey  Slack 
appeared  before  him  he  opened  his  eyes  in  surprise. 
"What  do  you  want,  sonny?" 

813 


2 1 4  Chick  AM  A  uCa  . 

"General  Maynard,  he  don't  command  no  mo',  'n 
I  want  ter  go  hum," 

"What  position  do  you  hold  in  the  service.  I  see 
you  wear  Uncle  Sam's  buttons." 

"Drummer,  detailed  fo'  duty  at  General  May- 
nard's  headquarters." 

"In  that  event,  you'll  have  to  go  back  to  the  band 
you  started  from.  I  can't  let  you  go  home.  I  have 
no  such  power." 

Jakey  turned  from  the  tent  without  another  word. 
He  had  cast  his  fortunes  with  "General"  Maynard, 
and,  while  he  was  in  his  element  with  the  army,  that 
army  was  nothing  to  Jakey  without  the  "General." 
He  made  up  his  mind  that  if  he  could  not  keep  his 
promise  to  Mrs.  Maynard  with  permission,  he  would 
keep  it  without  permission.  Now  Jakey  had  learned 
enough  of  army  regulations  to  know  that  absence  with- 
out leave  at  such  a  critical  juncture  would  be  considered 
as  flagrant  a  breach  of  army  regulations  as  desertion, 
and  the  penalty  for  desertion  he  well  knew  was  to  be 
shot. 

"Wal,"  he  said  after  mature  deliberation.  "I  goen 
ter  do  what  I  promised  anyway." 

A  violation  of  principle,  even  if  it  is  to  right  a  wrong, 
will  always  extend  its  malign  influence.  Mark  May- 
nard had  made  such  a  violation,  and  here  was  Jakey 
Slack,  who  looked  to  him  for  guidance,  about  to  imi- 
tate his  example.  If  his  beloved  "general"  could 
break  an  army  regulation,  certainly  it  would  be  no 
harm  for  him  to  do  so.     At  least  so  reasoned  Jakey. 

He  had  always  kept  the  clothes  he  had  on  when  he 
joined  the  army.     He  felt  that  he  was  of  quite  enough 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  215 

importance  to  have  impedimenta^  and  the  only  impedi- 
menta he  possessed  was  his  old  clothes.  They  had 
been  carried  in  the  wagon  with  Colonel  Maynard's 
baggage  and  now  came  in  handy.  Jakey  did  them  up 
in  a  bundle,  and  as  the  bugles  were  blowing  the  tattoo, 
he  sallied  forth  to  saddle  Tom.  The  horse  looked 
around  and,  seeing  Jakey,  submitted  himself  to  be 
saddled  and  bridled,  after  which  Jakey,  with  his  bundle 
under  his  arm,  mounted  by  the  aid  of  a  convenient 
stump  and  rode  away.  He  was  stopped  by  a  sentinel, 
who  recognizing  him  as  the  former  brigade  command- 
er's factotum,  permitted  him  to  pass.  Having  crossed 
the  creek  and  reached  a  clump  of  trees  away  from  the 
camps  he  rode  into  it,  and  dismounting  took  off  his 
blue  and  brass  and  put  on  his  old  clothes. 

"Ef  the  general  air  reduced,"  he  said,  "I  reckon  I 
got  ter  be.     These  air  good  'nuff  fo'  me  now." 

Having  divested  himself  of  the  plumage,  which,  not- 
withstanding his  remark,  was  very  dear  to  him,  he  rolled 
it  in  a  bundle,  and  fastening  it  in  the  crotch  of  a  tree 
where  it  would  be  covered  by  successive  layers  of  green 
boughs,  he  carefully  noted  the  place,  which  was  the 
only  wooded  spot  near  the  fork  of  two  roads,  so  that  in 
case  he  should  want  his  uniform  again  he  could  find  it. 
Then  remounting  Tom  he  set  off  toward  Rossville,  re- 
membering by  the  water  map  that  the  right-hand  road 
led  there. 

It  was  about  eleven  o'clock  at  night  when  he  reached 
Rossville.  He  determined  to  rest  there  a  few  hours,  and 
making  for  a  cavalry  camp,  got  on  the  "soft  side"  of  a 
sergeant,  and  turned  in  with  his  natural  associates,  the 
soldiers.     Jakey  asked  the  guard  to  waken  him  at  two 


2 1 6  CHICK  A  MA  UGA . 

o'clock,  at  which  time,  after  a  bite  furnished  by  his 
friend,  the  sergeant,  and  a  feed  for  Tom,  he  set  off 
toward  Chattanooga.  At  daylight  he  crossed  the 
Tennessee  River  and  was  soon  on  his  way  across  the 
neck  of  Moccasin  Point  toward  his  destination. 

As  Jakey  approached  the  plantation  it  occurred  to 
him  for  the  first  time  that  the  information  he  bore  was 
not  pleasant  for  him  to  give  to  anyone,  especially  a 
woman,  and  that  woman  "the  general's"  wife. 

"Reckon  she  'uns  '11  be  skeered  when  she  sees  me," 
he  muttered  to  himself.  "I  don't  like  this  business 
nohow.  Wonder  I  didn't  think  o'  this  befo'.  Wish 
ther'  wor  some'un  ter  tell  her.  Mebbe  I'll  see  Souri 
first.      Ef  I  do,  I'll  let  her  tell." 

But  Jakey  was  not  so  lucky.  He  reached  the  plan- 
tation just  before  breakfast-time,  and  as  Laura  May- 
nard  cast  a  glance  from  her  chamber  window  she  saw 
him  ride  up  to  the  veranda.  She  remembered  well  the 
promise  she  had  extracted  from  Jakey,  and  knew  in  a 
moment  that  he  was  the  bearer  of  some  bad  news. 
Putting  her  hand  on  her  heart,  to  stop  its  thumping,  she 
ran  downstairs  and  out  on  to  the  veranda.  The  boy 
dismounted  and  came  up  the  steps. 

"O  Jakey,  what  is  it?" 

Now,  Jakey  had  his  own  methods  of  carrying  his 
points,  and  whether  or  no  they  were  original  or  ingeni- 
ous he  carried  them.  Sometimes  his  parrying  was  very 
clumsy.  It  was  so  now.  He  must  gain  time  at  all 
hazards. 

"What  air  what?" 

"There's  something  happened  to  the  colonel.  I 
know  it.     Tell  me  the  worst," 


CHICKAMA  UGA.  2 1  ^ 

"Wal,  now,  Mrs.  Maynard,  'the  general'  he  hain't 
dead  nohow." 

"Thank  Heaven  he  lives.  Is  he  ill  or  wounded? 
Is  the  wound  mortal?  Or  is  his  illness  dangerous? 
Will  he  recover?     Oh,  tell  me,  tell  me!" 

"Which  'un  o'  them  air  questions  shell  I  answer 
fust?" 

Souri  came  out  on  to  the  veranda,  and  seeing  Jakey 
took  him  into  her  arms. 

"What  are  you  doing  here,  Jakey?"  she  asked. 

"Reckon  I  air  a  standen  on  ter  th'  gallery  jest  now." 

"Mark  is  ill,  wounded.  Heaven  knows  what!"  ex- 
claimed Laura,  "he  won't  tell  me."  She  clasped  her 
hands  and  trembled. 

"Jakey,  don't  give  Mrs,  Maynard  pain  by  keeping 
her  in  suspense;  tell  her." 

But  Souri  dreaded  to  have  her  friend  hear  bad  news, 
as  well  as  Jakey  dreaded  to  give  it. 

"Wal,"  said  Jakey,  cornered,  "the  general:  he  air 
damned  obstinate." 

"Obstinate?" 

"Yas." 

"What  do  you  mean,  Jakey?"  asked  Souri,  encour- 
agingly. 

"Wal.  The  general,  he  reckons  ther's  goen  to  be  a 
big  fight  'n  he's  goen  fo'  ter  git  hisself  killed." 

"Heavens!"  exclaimed  Laura.  "What  does  \\.  all 
mean?" 

"Means  Miss  Baggs." 

"MissBaggs!"  cried  the  wife,  bristling.  "So  it's 
something  about  /ler." 

"  "T'sall  'bout  her." 


2 1 8  CHICK  A  MA  UGA . 

"Tell  me  what  you  mean,  this  instant,"  said  Laura, 
with  flashing  eyes. 

By  this  time  Jakey  had  got  to  a  point  where  he 
could  begin  to  tell  his  story.  He  did  so  after  the 
following  fashion : 

"Miss  Baggs,  she  wor  kecht  taken  the  telegraphs  off 
'n  th'  wires  and  turned  over  to  the  general.  The 
general  he  wanted  to  turn  her  over  to  headquarters; 
but  they  was  too  smart  for  him.  They  tole  him  't  try 
her  'n  kill  her." 

"The  cruel  monsters!'  cried  Laura, 

"Maybe  Jakey's  got  it  wrong.  They'd  not  be 
likely  to  express  it  that  way,"  said  Souri. 

"Reckon  that's  about  it  with  a  spy,  anyhow.  The 
genera],  he  tried  her,  but  when  it  come  't  killen  her, 
he  wasn't  thar. " 

"The  noble  man;   it  is  just  like  him,"  from  Laura. 

"Then  he  found  out  that  she  was  a  sister  of  a  old 
friend  o'  his'n." 

"Who  was  that?"  from  Laura. 

"Mister  Fitz  Hugh." 

"Caroline  Fitz  Hugh?" 

"Reckon." 

"Who  is  she?"  asked  Souri  of  Laura. 

"I — I  never  saw  her.  I  know  who  she  is, 
though." 

"Then  the  general  he  dressed  hisself  like  a  pri- 
vate sojer,  *n  he  'n  Corporal  Ratigan " 

"'Corporal  Ratigan!"  exclaimed  Souri. 

"Yas,  he  'n  Corporal  Ratigan,  they  run  her  over  the 
lines." 

"Well?"   from  Laura,  breathlessly. 


CHICK  A  MA  VGA.  219 

"The  general  he  confessed,  'n  they  tried  him 
'n "  Jakey  hesitated. 

"Sentenced  him  to  be ?     O   Souri,  help  me." 

And  Laura  tottered  against  her  friend. 

"Ter  be  cashyered." 

"Do  tell  me  what  it  is,"  gasped  Laura,  looking  im- 
ploringly at  Souri. 

"I  don't  know;  what  is  it,  Jakey?" 

"Bein'  dropped  out'n  th'  service." 

"And  is  that  all?"  cried  Laura,  hysterically.  "Only 
dropped  out  of  the  service:  and  for  doing  a  noble 
act !  Poor  Mark !  I  know  that  he  will  consider  this  a 
terrible  disgrace,  but  to  me  it  is  a  blessing.  Now  I  can 
show  him  how  I  love  him,"  and  dropping  her  head 
on  Souri's  shoulder  she  burst  into  a  torrent  of  tears. 


XXIII. 

THE    FIRST    GUN    AT    CHICKAMAUGA. 

MARK  MAYNARD  was  passing  the  first  night  after 
his  sentence.  Jakey  had  left  him,  after  their  dis- 
cussion of  the  campaign,  to  relapse  into  gloom.  He 
blew  out  his  candle  and  threw  himself  on  his  camp  cot. 
Sleep  would  not  come.  The  events  of  the  past  few 
days  caracoled  fantastically  before  him  like  an  army  of 
cavalry  goblins  in  review.  They  had  scarcely  got  by 
before  they  turned  and  came  cantering  back  again. 
Thus  th^y  marched  and  countermarched  till  midnight, 
and  still  no  sign  of  sleep.  Maynard  tossed  and  turned 
and  pined  for  day.  And  what  would  it  bring  forth? 
Surely  a  battle  could  not  be  much  longer  delayed, 
and  witli  a  battle  there  was  a  chance  for  oblivion. 

Scratching  a  match  he  reached  for  his  watch.  It 
was  twelve  o'clock.  He  felt  that  he  could  no  longer 
bear  those  low-peaked  canvas  walls  above  him.  He 
must  get  out  under  the  broader  canopy.  Lighting  his 
candle  he  noticed  the  uniform  of  private  Flanagan,  in 
which  he  had  aided  the  escape  of  Caroline  Fitz  Hugh. 
He  put  it  on  and,  throwing  back  the  tent  flaps,  stepped 
out  into  the  night.  The  sky  was  covered  with  thin 
clouds,  behind  which  the  moon  shone,  giving  a  light  be- 
tween darkness  and  moonlight.  He  set  out  toward  the 
front.  Passing  out  of  his  own  immediate  camp  he 
ascended  the  slope  of  Pea  Vines  Ridge,  which   stood 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  2  21 

dark  against  the  eastern  sky.  Climbing  to  one  of  its 
highest  points,  where  he  could  overlook  the  Pea  Vine 
Valley,  he  seated  himself  on  a  rock  and  gave  himself 
over  to  meditation.  Around  him  was  the  dark  circle 
of  the  horizon,  while  above  was  the  great  dome. 
Beneath  him,  on  the  eastern  slope  of  the  ridge,  were 
the  Union  out-posts,  beyond  which  slept  a  Confederate 
army.  Back  of  him,  in  the  valley  of  the  Chickamauga, 
were  the  Union  troops,  the  two  armies  making  in 
all  a  hundred  thousand  souls. 

And  yet  these  vast  numbers  seemed  dwarfed  under 
the  great  vault  above.  The  heavens  would  last  for- 
ever, but  these  hundred  thousand  men  must  all  at  last 
be  gathered  within  the  slowly  folding  wings  of  time. 
Many  doubtless  in  a  few  days ;  a  moiety  of  the  whole, 
a  few  gray  beards  from  the  now  youthful  ranks,  meet- 
ing once  a  year  to  talk  over  their  long  past  campaigns, 
speak  reverently  of  their  fallen  comrades  and  part  to 
convene  in  smaller  numbers  the  next  year.  One  by 
one  they  would  join  those  who  had  become  a  part  of 
the  fields  on  which  they  fought;  their  better  part  re- 
forming in  their  new-born  existence,  spiritual  hosts 
unalloyed  with  human  passions,  to  continue  an  eternal 
contest  bet'ween  right  and  wrong. 

While  Maynard  was  thus  musing  there  came  a  dis- 
tant rumbling  from  the  south.  It  grew^  faded,  was 
lost,  and  reappeared,  the  unmistakable  rattle  of  a  train. 
It  came  on  slowly  from  a  distance  of  several  miles,  the 
rolling  of  the  trucks,  the  panting  of  the  locomotive, 
growing  louder  the  while,  till  it  reached  a  point  directly 
east  of  where  he  was  sitting  and  a  few  miles  south  of 
Ringold.     There  it  could  not  only  be  heard,  but  seen 


22  2  CHICK  A  MA  UGA . 

by  him.  He  watched  it  move  on  up  the  road  and  at 
last  it  was  lost  in  Ringold.  He  listened  to  hear  if  it 
went  further,  but  the  sound  did  not  recommence. 

Scarcely  had  the  train  stopped  when  another  was 
heard  coming  from  the  same  direction.  It,  too,  came 
on,  was  lost  for  a  time  in  the  tunnel,  and  passing  north, 
stopped  where  the  other  had  stopped.  Then  came  a 
third  and  a  fourth,  all  moving  in  the  same  direction. 
In  less  than  an  hour  Maynard  counted  five  trains,  all 
of  which  stopped  at  Ringold. 

He  rose  from  his  seat.  "There,"  he  exclaimed, 
pointing  to  Ringold,  "is  a  point  from  which,  if  I  am 
not  mistaken,  there  will  soon  come  an  attack  on  our 
lines.  They  are  bringing  troops  in  those  trains  to 
mass  them  on  our  left,  where  there  is  so  little  to  oppose 
them.  If  the  trains  were  going  south,  it  would  argue 
that  the  enemy  were  retreating.  Coming  north  means 
that  they  are  going  to  take  the  offensive.  It  looks  to 
me  as  if  this  rapid  moving  of  men  at  this  hour  meant  a 
daylight  attack  right  here  on  the  left.  If  so,  there  is  no 
time  to  lose.     I  must  get  back  and  give  a  warning." 

He  walked  rapidly  in  the  direction  of  Reed's  Bridge, 
where  he  knew  all  about  the  forces  encamped  there 
(cavalry  and  artillery),  but  as  he  walked  it  occurred  to 
him  that  his  information  would  likely  not  be  credited 
in  any  event,  and  as  a  deposed  oiificer  it  would  be  espe- 
cially liable  to  be  disregarded.  Still  he  went  on,  has- 
tening his  pace,  and  coming  to  the  headquarters  of  the 
commanding  officer  of  the  troops  he  sought,  found  an 
aide  who  was  on  duty  all  night,  the  general  being  ap- 
prehensive in  his  exposed  position,  and  wishing  to  be 
called  at  the  slightest  sign  of  an  attack.     To  him  May- 


CHICh'AMAUGA.  223 

nard  recounted  what  he  had  seen,  and  the  general  was 
awakened  and  informed.  He  turned  a  willing  ear  to 
Maynard's  caution,  and  at  once  ordered  that  the  men 
be  aroused,  the  horses  fed  and  breakfast  prepared. 
Then  the  horses  were  saddled,  the  artillery  harnessed, 
and  the  baggage  loaded  into  the  wagons. 

After  imparting  his  information  Maynard  went  to  his 
own  camp,  called  for  his  horse,  and  buckling  on  his 
saber  and  pistol  rode  back  to  the  camp  he  had  left. 
He  arrived  just  in  time  to  join  a  reconnoitering  party 
starting  to  ride  over  the  ridge  in  the  direction  of 
Ringold.  Being  in  a  private's  uniform  he  was  not  rec- 
ognized by  'ihe  men — his  appearance  was  much 
changed  by  the  loss  of  his  beard — and  fell  in  with  the 
last  files  as  though  he  belonged  to  the  troop. 

The  squadron  trotted  up  the  road  leading  through  a 
gap  in  the  ridge,  and  stood  on  a  summit  overlooking 
the  Pea  Vine  Valley.  By  the  light  of  day  Maynard 
looked  down  upon  the  landscape  he  had  seen  a  few 
hours  before:  but  ah,  how  changed.  Ten  thousand 
men  in  gray  were  coming  across  the  valley. 

It  is  a  solemn  sight  at  any  time  to  see  an  army  mov- 
ing to  strike  a  foe.  There  was  something  in  the  silent 
movement — too  far  for  him  to  hear  the  tramp  of  the 
men  advancing  over  the  intervening  space,  still  wearing 
its  summer  robes  of  green — to  remind  him  of  a  thunder 
cloud  rising  in  a  clear  sky.  There  were  compact  col- 
umns of  infantry  steadily  marching,  while  on  either 
flank  cavalry  trotted  forward,  head  up,  like  a  troop  of 
lions  over  jungle.  Occasionally  there  came  a  confu- 
sion of  distant  sounds — orders — mere  murmurings 
preceding  the   storm.      The  advancing  host    seemed 


2  24  CHICICA  I\tA  OCA . 

rather  a  troop  of  specters,  moving  with  the  wind — an 
array  of  malicious  spirits  coming  to  scatter  a  plague 
from  their  still  silent  weapons. 

This  fancy  vanished  with  the  first  few  shots  from  the 
skirmishers.  They  were  too  real,  too  spiteful,  to  at- 
tril)ute  to  any  but  human  agencies.  Back  goes  the 
thin  line  of  blue  before  the  scattered  Confederates  in 
advance,  supported  by  thick  columns  of  dusty  gray. 
No  skirmisli  line  would  care  to  stand  against  these 
columns  coming  silently,  not  yet  in  presence  of  a  foe 
worthy  of  a  volley. 

Suddenly  there  is  a  rumbling,  a  shouting,  a  lashing 
of  horses  in  Maynard's  rear.  Turning  he  sees  a  Union 
battery,  drawn  by  horses,  galloping  up  the  slope  from 
the  bridge.  Dashing  into  position,  the  horses  are 
swung  around,  pointing  the  muzzles  of  cannon  toward 
the  advancing  host.  The  guns  are  unlimbered  ;  there 
is  a  boom,  followed  by  a  shrieking  shell  arching  toward 
the  heavens,  and  dropping  with  a  sound  like  an 
exploding  rocket  over  one  of  the  advancing  columns. 

The  shot  produces  a  change  in  the  disposition  of  the 
closely  packed  Confederates,  as  a  turn  of  a  kaleidoscope 
alters  the  coml)ination  of  colors.  The  closed  columns 
halt,  quickly  extend  wings  on  either  side,  joining  tips, 
each  while  deploying,  resembling  the  continued  line, 
from  tip  to  tip,  of  some  huge  distant  bird.  Now  they 
are  in  line  of  battle,  and  once  more  move  forward, 
while  the  Union  battery  drops  shells  in  their  extended 
and  less  vulnerable  ranks.  Marching  over  open 
fields,  crossing  gulleys,  now  lost  in  a  wood,  to  appear 
upon  its  other  edge,  bisecting  creek  and  road,  a  slowly 
drawing  coil,  a  line  of  the  "ribbed  sea  sand,"  a  streak 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  225 

of  dust  before  a  rising  wind,  the  Southerners  move 
steadily  forward.  Before  them  the  Union  outposts 
give  way,  retreating  under  cover  of  their  guns. 

What  are  those  funereal  looking  wagons  driving  up 
and  being  stationed  at  different  points?  those,  men, 
with  a  strip  of  red  flannel  about  their  arms,  scattering 
themselves  over  the  field?  To  the  young  enthusiast 
for  war  in  the  distance,  who  has  been  impatient  to  see 
a  battle,  these  wagons,  these  men  marked  with  red, 
composing  the  ambulance  corps,  getting  ready  to  take 
care  of  dead  who  have  not  yet  been  killed,  wounded 
who  have  not  yet  been  hit,  bring  the  first  realization  of 
what  war  means.  There  is  none  of  the  harsh  music 
of  haiile  about  these  grim-looking  wagons,  these  men 
waitmg  for  victims,  to  brighten  the  eye  and  send  the 
blood  coursing  through  the  veins.  They  go  about 
their  work  in  a  methodical  fashion  that  dampens  ardor 
as  water  quenches  fire.  They  mock  a  soldier's  ambi- 
tion for  glory.  There  is  something  in  the  calculation, 
the  preparation,  to  remind  him  that,  after  all,  the  gold 
lace,  the  feathers,  the  martial  music,  are  but  to  cause 
him,  like  the  pampered  sacrifice,  to  forget  what  he  is 
for — to  be  shot. 

But  Mark  Maynard  was  a  veteran,  and  had  seen  all 
this  before.  He  gave  the  ambulance  corps  a  single 
glance,  and  then  looking  toward  a  group  of  Union  offi- 
cers partly  concealed  from  him  by  the  smoke  of  the 
battery,  saw  one  of  them,  with  the  stars  of  a  brigadier- 
general  on  his  shoulder,  peer  northward  through  a 
field-glass.  Turning  his  eyes  in  the  same  direction  he 
could  see  a  light  cloud  rising  west  of  Ringold.  He 
watched  it  and  observed  that  one  end  of  it  was  trend- 


2  26  CHICK  A  MA  VCA . 

ing  toward  a  ford,  north  of  Reed's  Ridge.  The  officer 
soon  shut  up  his  glass,  and  in  another  moment  aides 
were  galloping  away  to  give  orders  to  retreat.  A  col- 
umn of  Confederates,  extending  for  miles,  were  march- 
ing to  the  ford  to  turn  the  Union  left,  and  no  time  was 
to  be  lost  in  getting  the  little  force  back  to  the  bridge. 

There  is  a  quick  limbering  of  guns,  and  skirmishers, 
cavalry,  gunners,  all  hurry  back  over  the  ridge.  At 
the  bridge  they  find  two  regiments  ready  for  any  duty 
to  which  they  may  be  assigned.  They  are  directed  to 
hold  the  ford  to  which  the  column  of  dust  is  moving. 
Protected  in  that  direction,  the  force  at  the  bridge 
awaits  more  confidently  the  coming  of  the  advancing 
Confederates. 

Tliey  have  not  long  to  wait.  The  skirmishers,  a 
thin  line  of  gray,  is  soon  seen  skurrying  over  the  ridge 
like  light  scattered  clouds  before  a  "white  squall." 
The  main  line  of  gray  is  still  tramping  over  the  Pea 
Vine  Valley,  keeping  the  slow  pace  of  their  heavy  guns. 
The  Union  men  do  not  wait  for  the  stronger  force; 
they  turn  upon  these  skirmishers  and  drive  them  back 
through  the  gap  to  their  more  slowly  moving  comrades. 

Mark  Maynard,  following  with  the  rest,  soon  again 
found  himself  on  the  ridge.  There,  in  the  valley  below, 
was  the  line  of  battle  he  had  seen,  but  nearer — a  cres- 
cent-shaped line  extending  from  the  bank  of  the  creek 
above  the  ford  across  the  northern  end  of  the  ridge 
into  the  Pea  Vine  Valley.  Battle-flags  appeared  above 
the  line  at  regular  intervals;  each  one  of  fifteen  flags 
Maynard  counted,  indicating  a  regiment.  He  knew 
that  the  little  Union  force  east  of  the  Chickamauga 
could  not  stand  against  what  appeared  to  be  at  least  a 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  227 

division  of  infantry  with  a  very  strong  force  of  cavalry. 
Nor  was  he  wrong;  the  scythe  swung  round  as  if 
moved  by  the  arms  of  a  Titan,  mowing  with  its  sharp 
edge  the  opposing  Unionists.  They  were  sent  flying 
back  to  the  bridge  and  hurriedly  put  themselves  into  a 
position  to  defend  it. 

They  are  ready  for  the  storm  when  it  breaks,  meet- 
ing it  with  artillery  and  charges  of  cavalry.  The  Con- 
federates are  driven,  but  by  this  time  their  artillery  has 
been  got  forward  and  posted  at  a  point  north  of  the 
bridge,  where  it  can  sweep  the  valley  of  the  creek,  the 
bridge,  and  those  whose  purpose  it  is  to  defend  it. 

Now  there  is  imminent  danger.  Will  the  little  force 
on  the  east  bank  get  over  or  will  it  be  cut  off  and  cap- 
tured by  these  overwhelming  Confederates?  It  can 
only  be  saved  by  one  portion  charging  the  enemy  while 
the  others  are  moving  by  twos  (the  bridge  will  stand 
no  more)  across  the  structure. 

Among  those  who  charged  and  recharged  to  keep  off 
the  gray  coats  swarming  upon  them  on  that  eventful 
morning,  always  in  the  advance,  in  the  spitting  line  of 
foam  that  precedes  the  billow  rolling  upon  the  sand, 
Mark  Maynard  was  ever  present.  As  each  wave  rolled 
from  the  margin  of  the  Chickamauga  broke  upon  the 
Southerners,  and  receded,  a  number  of  the  Union 
troops  had  passed  the  bridge.  Maynard  waited  till 
every  man  was  over,  then  stepping  on  the  bridge  he 
joined  a  party  who  were  tearing  up  the  flooring,  to 
prevent  the  enemy  from  following.  At  last  these  left 
for  the  shore  and  he  remained  alone.  As  board  after 
board  came  up,  the  Confederates  pushed  nearer,  but 
still  he  worked  on.     Bullets  sang  to  each  other  as  they 


228  CHICI^A  MA  VGA . 

passed  from  east  to  west  and  from  west  to  east,  while 
the  air  was  thick  with  interminable  explosions.  At 
last  all  was  done  that  could  be  done.  Whether  his 
action  had  so  excited  the  admiration  of  his  enemies 
that  the}'  had  no  heart  to  shoot  him,  or  whether  an 
overruling  power  would  not  let  him  die,  he  at  last 
turned  unhurt  and  joined  his  comrades. 

He  liad  been   exposed  as  never  before,  as  he  might 
never  be  again,  but  he  had  not  met  Death. 


XXIV. 

THE    NINETEENTH    OF    SEPTEMBER. 

SELDOM  has  an  army  been  in  a  more  critical  posi- 
tion than  the  Army  of  the  Cumberland  at  this 
juncture.  The  Confederates  overlapped  the  Union 
front  on  the  nortli  Ijy  half  a  dozen  miles,  and  between 
Confederates  and  the  Chattanooga  road,  leading  from 
what  was  both  the  Union  left  and  rear  into  Chatta- 
nooga, there  were  only  small  bodies  of  cavalry.  Bragg 
had  but  to  overwhelm  these,  cross  the  Chickamauga, 
and  march  a  few  miles  westward  to  seize  this  road  and 
throw  himself  between  his  enemy  and  that  enemy's 
base — Chattanooga.  It  was  his  intention  to  cross 
Reed's  Bridge  by  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning,  with 
one  column,  and  Alexander's  Bridge,  a  few  miles 
above,  at  the  same  hour,  the  two  columns  to  join  and 
seize  the  coveted  road,  attack  Crittenden's  left,  while 
a  third  Confederate  column,  crossing  at  Dalton's  Ford, 
would  attack  him  in  front.  Crittenden  once  crushed 
under  these  combined  forces,  as  it  was  expected  he 
would  be  by  noon,  the  whole  Confederate  army  was  to 
overwhelm  Thomas,  still  ten  miles  distant,  leaving 
McCook,  twenty  miles  away,   to  be  finished  later  on. 

There  was  nothing  on  the  left  to  prevent  the  execu- 
tion of  this  attractive  plan  but  the  two  bodies  of  cav- 
alry at  Reed's  and  Alexander's  bridges.  Eight  o'clock 
came  and  they  were  not  overwlielmed.     The  sun  stood 


^3°  CHICKAMAUGA. 

high  over  the  valley  of  the  Chickamauga,  and  still  the 
Confederates  had  not  crossed  at  either  of  these  two 
points.  The  defenders  of  the  bridges  were  a  swarm  of 
hornets  flying  in  their  enemies'  faces  with  many  an 
effective  sting.  At  noon  they  were  still  stinging.  It 
was  not  till  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  that  the  de- 
fenders of  Alexander's  Bridge  were  forced  to  give  way, 
and  those  at  Reed's  Bridge  only  retired  on  learning 
that  the  other  had  been  captured  by  the  enemy.  So 
the  morning  and  the  afternoon  passed,  and  when  even- 
ing fell  but  eight  thousand  Confederates  had  been 
thrown  across.  What  was  to  have  been  executed  on 
Friday,  the  eighteenth  of  September,  must  be  deferred 
till  the  next  day.     Will  it  then  be  too  late? 

The  moon  is  lighting  up  the  field,  the  woods,  the 
summits  of  the  two  ridges  inclosing  the  valley  of  the 
Chickamauga,  and  a  hundred  thousand  soldiers.  The 
air  is  cold  and  crisp,  and  myriads  of  camp-fires  are 
scattered  over  the  valley,  as  a  reflection  of  the  starry 
heavens  upon  the  bosom  of  a  lake.  All  night  the 
moon  gleams  upon  the  steel  of  the  two  sleepless  armies: 
the  Confederates  pushing  across  the  Chickamauga,  the 
Unionists  marching  to  cover  their  unprotected  left. 
Many  a  soldier  casts  his  eye  up  into  the  serene  heavens 
and  remarks  the  Queen  of  Night  looking  down  upon 
him,  so  pale,  so  cold,  so  dead,  as  if  in  mockery  of  his 
own  animate  being,  and  prophetic  of  what  may  come 
for  him  on  the  morrow. 

From  the  southward  comes  the  tramp  of  dust-cov- 
ered men  in  blue.  At  their  head  rides  one  who  before 
the  sun  twice  sets  is  to  take  first  rank  among  the  heroes 
of  Chickamauga,     Thomas  is  leading  his  men  from  a 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  231 

distant  point  far  beyond  Crittenden,  to  the  exposed 
left  and  rear;  to  the  Chattanooga  road — the  road  com- 
manding the  line  of  communication  of  the  Army  of  the 
Cumberland.  It  must  be  a  forced  march,  for  the  time 
is  short  and  the  distance  is  great. 

From  the  eastward  the  Confederates  are  pushing 
across  the  Chickamauga.  Every  available  passage  is 
occupied,  but  there  is  little  left  of  the  bridges  and  it  is 
slow  and  hazardous  work  at  the  fords.  Large  bodies 
of  men  are  like  streams.  They  flow  easily  across  open 
countries,  but  become  choked  in  narrow  ways.  Yet 
the  work  goes  on.  It  is  a  long  night;  long  for  these 
men  wading  through  water,  or  standing  in  the  chilly 
hours  past  midnight  in  wet  clothing.  It  is  an  eventful 
night;  for  if  they  get  across  in  sufficient  force,  and 
the  way  is  still  unblocked  as  yesterday,  the  fate  of  the 
Union  army  is  sealed. 

At  midnight  Maynard  lay  under  a  tree,  trying  to 
catch  some  sleep.  The  exertion  of  the  day  would  have 
brought  it,  for  he  was  exhausted;  but  his  position,  as 
to  the  army  with  which  he  had  no  place,  was  burning 
him  like  a  hot  iron,  A  few  days  before  and  he  would 
have  been  leading  his  brigade  through  these  stirring 
scenes.  Now  he  was  not  even  a  private  soldier.  He 
was  an  outcast,  a  wretch  too  detestable  for  the  respect 
even  of  menial  cooks  and  strikers,  of  teamsters,  of  the 
grasping  horde  of  army  followers,  whose  object  was  to 
cheat  the  soldier  and  rob  the  dead. 

The  moon,  finding  a  convenient  opening  in  the 
boughs  above  him,  looked  at  him  in  a  way  that  in  a 
measure  quieted  him.  What  an  absence  of  turmoil  on 
her  surface!     No  guns  roar  in  her  valleys,  no  armies 


232  CHICKAMAUGA. 

contend  for  the  possession  of  her  ringed  ridges.  The 
thought  for  a  moment  chased  away  his  desire  for  obliv- 
ion. He  shuddered  at  her  nothingness.  The  scenes 
through  which  he  was  passing  seemed  far  preferable. 
He  was  in  the  midst  of  man's  coveted  action.  While 
that  lasted  he  could  not  for  long  be  plunged  in  despair. 
Thank  Heaven,  he  was  permitted  to  seek  solace  in 
such  turmoil,  such  roaring  of  guns  and  yelling  of  men 
as  had  come  and  was  coming. 

Toward  morning  his  thoughts  became  less  intense, 
less  clear.  The  sounds  coming  from  a  troop  of  horses, 
picketed  near,  became  more  and  more  confused ;  the 
snores  of  men,  resting  after  a  day  of  hard  fighting,  lost 
their  vigor;  the  branches  above  him  twined  indis- 
tinctly ;   he  slept. 

He  was  awakened  by  the  sound  of  a  gun.  It  was 
broad  day.  He  started  up  and  listened.  Then  came 
another  dull  boom,  then  another,  and  in  a  few  min- 
utes there  was  the  rapid  firing  of  a  battle  on  the  left. 
Surely  that  is  not  the  little  body  of  cavalry  in  whose 
ranks  he  had  fought  the  day  before. 

Mounting  he  rode  toward  it  through  a  partly 
wooded,  partly  open  country.  The  fields  were  gray, 
but  the  woods  were  still  green.  Then  there  was  the 
odor  of  the  morning  in  the  country  and  the  chirping 
of  birds,  hunting  for  their  breakfast.  It  would  not 
be  long  before  that  perfume  must  give  way  to  the 
smell  of  gunpowder,  before  the  chirping  of  the  birds 
would  be  drowned  by  the  sounds  of  musketry  and 
artillery. 

Meeting  an  aid-de-camp  riding  at  full  speed  toward 
the  south,  he  called  out,  pointing  in  the  direction  of  the 


CHICKAMA  UGA.  233 

firing,  which  he  could  now  discern  was  on  or  near 
the  Chattanooga  road : 

"Who's  there?" 

"Old  Pap,  with  two  divisions." 

Maynard  uttered  an  exclamation  of  surprise  and 
pleasure. 

"How  did  he  get  there?" 

"Marched  all  night." 

"Much  force  in  his  front?" 

"You  bet!  I'm  going  for  reinforcements;"  and 
in  a  moment  he  was  out  of   sight. 

A  courier  came  dashing  from  the  opposite  direction. 

"What  news  from  the  right?" 

"The  head  of  McCook's  column  is  at  Crawfish 
Springs." 

"Good.  The  army  is  safe  for  the  present;  the 
game  is  balked." 

Striking  the  road  leading  to  Alexander's  Bridge  he 
found  himself  in  rear  of  the  Union  line  of  battle  that 
had  opened  on  the  left.  A  force  hurried  by  to  the 
support  of  comrades  at  the  front.  The  ground  he  was 
on  had  just  been  fought  over,  and  dead  and  wounded 
were  scattered  everywhere.  Entering  a  wood  he 
pushed  forward  through  it,  A  young  soldier,  a  boy 
of  eighteen,  was  sitting  on  the  ground,  supported  by  a 
tree,  gasping  for  breath.  A  red  stream,  running  down 
his  bosom,  showed  that  he  had  been  shot  through  the 
lungs.  "You  are  thinking  of  home,  my  boy,"  mut- 
tered Maynard,  and  pushed  on.  An  officer  lay  in  his 
path  and  begged  him  for  what  the  wounded  crave  so 
eagerly — water.  Maynard  rode  about  hunting  for  a 
stream  or  a  spring.     At  last  lie  found  what  he  sought, 


234  CHICK  A  MA  UGA . 

and  filling  a  canteen  rode  back  to  where  the  man  lay. 
He  was  dead.  In  his  hand  he  held  a  picture  of  wife 
and  two  little  children.*  Within  hearing  of  the  boom- 
ing in  front  and  shells  cutting  the  trees  above  him,  he 
had  passed  from  the  harshest,  through  the  gentlest  of 
human  feelings,  to  the  eternal  peace. 

Riding  on  Maynard  met  an  officer  he  had  known 
intimately.  Without  thought  of  his  altered  condition, 
the  degraded  colonel  waved  his  hand  in  .salute  and 
cried  out:  "How  goes  the  battle,  major?"  The 
officer  passed  by  with  a  look  which  Maynard  never 
forgot.  It  sent  the  hot  blood  mounting  to  his  cheeks. 
He  could  have  cloven  the  man's  skull  with  his  sabre. 
But  there  was  no  need  of  that.  Was  there  not  an 
enemy  at  the  front?  Yes,  and  there  was  death.  He 
dashed  on  and  arrived  at  one  of  the  hottest  points  on 
the  left  just  as  a  line  of  cavalry  was  moving  to  a  charge. 

Joining  them  he  rode  down  into  a  storm  so  wild,  so 
fierce,  so  full  of  destruction  that  surely  he  thought  the 
coveted  Death  must  come.  But  the  gaps  in  the  ranks 
were  to  his  right,  to  his  left,  anywhere,  everywhere, 
except  where  he  rode.  And  when  the  troopers  with 
whom  he  fought  came  out  of  the  fight  Mark  Maynard 
was  still  among  the  living. 

So  opened  the  battle  of  Saturday,  September  the 
nineteenth.  Throughout  that  day  Maynard  rode 
wherever  he  saw  that  the  grim  specter  hovered.  At 
times  he  was  with  the  cavalry,  at  times  he  would  dis- 
mount, and  leaving  his  horse  in  the  rear  go  forward 
with  a  musket.     On  one  occasion,  catching  the  enthu- 

*  The  incident  is  related  in  war  memories  of  an  officer  :  "  Steed- 
man  and  his  men  at  Chicl<amauga." 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  235 

siasm  of  battle,  he  was  forgetting  his  misfortune,  when 
the  officer  of  the  regiment  with  which  he  fought  rec- 
ognized him.     The  two  had  been  at  enmity, 

"Leave  these  ranks!" 

Maynard  turned,  saw  that  he  was  addressed,  and 
who  addressed  him.  Throwing  down  his  gun,  the  hot 
tears  bursting  from  his  eyes,  he  turned  away. 

Again  he  was  tramping  through  a  cornfield  on  the 
flank  of  a  regiment,  when  he  saw  a  division  general  in- 
specting the  men  as  they  passed  forward  to  an  attack. 
He  recognized  the  general  who  had  sent  the  spy  to  him. 
Their  eyes  met.  Maynard  had  by  this  time  come  to  see 
through  the  device  by  which  the  other  had  led  him  into 
his  present  position  and  regarded  the  officer  steadily. 
The  man  turned  his  horse's  head  and  galloped  away. 
There  was  one  man  in  the  army  who  did  not  care  to 
look  him  in  the  eye. 

Maynard  kept  Madge,  as  far  as  possible,  within  strik- 
ing distance,  returning  to  her  frequently  after  his 
marches  on  foot.  As  the  dusk  of  evening  was  coming 
on  he  mounted  her  and  rode  forward  to  get  the  posi- 
tion of  the  Confederate  line  in  his  front.  He  was  in 
rear  of  a  Union  line  lying  down  and  firing.  They 
would  fire,  rise,  move  forward  a  little,  fall  and  fire 
again.  Maynard  kept  near  in  their  rear,  till  wishing 
to  see  how  the  line  joined  on  the  left,  he  rode  in  that 
direction.  He  was  astonished  not  to  find  any  troops 
there.  Glancing  in  his  rear  he  discovered  the  backs 
of  troops  firing  in  the  opposite  direction.  It  at  once 
occurred  to  him  that  they  were  Confederates,  who  had 
pushed  further  forward  than  their  supports.  He  was 
about  to  turn  away,  when  he  saw  that  he  was  discov- 


236  CHICKAMAUGA. 

ered.  With  that  resource  for  which  he  had  been 
famous  in  his  scouting  days,  he  determined  to  play  a 
bold  game.  It  was  growing  dark,  and  in  his  dusty  and 
begrimed  condition  it  would  be  difficult  for  anyone  to 
tell  what  uniform  he  wore.  Putting  spurs  to  his  horse 
he  dashed  in  front  of  the  Confederate  line,  holding  up 
his  hand  and  shouting: 

"Stop  this  firing.      Stop  firing." 

Those  who  heard  him  obeyed.  Riding  along  the 
line  toward  the  colonel  he  cried : 

"Colonel,  you'll  kill  our  own  men  if  you  don't 
cease  firing  in  that  direction." 

Dashing  on,  as  if  he  were  a  staff  officer  on  an  impor- 
tant duty,  he  watched  his  opportunity,  and  seeing  cover 
in  the  distance  gave  Madge  the  spurs  and  amid  a 
shower  of  bullets  (for  by  this  act  it  was  plain  to  which 
side  he  belonged)  rode  into  safety. 

"General,"  he  said,  riding  up  to  an  officer  in  com- 
mand of  a  Union  brigade,  "there  are  some  Confeder- 
ates over  there  in  advance  of  their  line.  If  you  will 
march  your  men  by  the  flank  you'll  go  in  behind 
them  and  capture  them." 

"How  do  you  know?"  asked  the  general. 

"I  just  came  from  there  and  saw  them  myself." 

The  order  was  given  and  parts  of  two  Confederate 
regiments  were  captured.  The  colonel  commanding 
them  inquired  for  the  Yankee  who  had  been  ordering 
his  men  about,  but  by  this  time  Maynard  was  off  to 
another  part  of  the  field.* 

The  day  passed  with  a  succession  of  blows  upon  an 

*  This  feat  was  actually  performed  during  the  war  by  a  young 
ajd-decamp  in  the  Union  Army. 


CHICK  A  MA  VGA.  237 

army  still  too  "strung  out"  for  its  own  good.  But 
they  were  all  successfully  resisted.  Wherever  a 
place  was  weak,  some  brigade  or  division  was  sent  to 
strengthen  it,  usually  leaving  a  place  where  it  had  been. 
But  all  points  were  strengthened  in  time;  all  damage 
repaired,  at  least  the  damage  on  which  hung  defeat; 
the  damage  to  the  dead  and  thirsting  wounded  scat- 
tered along  the  line  for  miles  could  never  be  repaired. 
It  could  be  counted  and  laid  down  accurately  in  the 
ofificial  reports;  but  who  can  count  or  repair  the 
hearts  broken  with  every  charge,  every  defense. 

And  so  the  sun  went  down,  over  a  field  on  wliich  there 
was  no  victory,  no  defeat;  only  suffering  and  death. 


XXV. 

COMING    OF    THE    RESERVE. 

THE  night  has  come  again.  The  smoke  has  rolled 
away  from  the  battlefield  of  Chickamauga.  There 
is  neither  sound  of  cannon  nor  musketry,  except  here 
and  there  an  occasional  picket  firing.  There  is  an- 
other sound  within  the  dark  forest  where  Thomas'  men 
are  resting,  the  sound  of  the  wood-chopper's  ax.  The 
commander-in-chief  of  the  Confederates  hears  it  and 
knows  with  a  general's  quick  perception  that  another 
chance  of  destroying  his  enemy  is  passing.  He  can- 
not enter  that  forest  at  the  dead  of  night  to  stop  that 
chopping,  and  he  knows  as  he  hears  hundreds  of  axes 
replacing  the  more  appalling  sounds  of  the  day  with 
the  clatter  of  their  blades,  and  now  and  again  some 
great  tree  crashing  through  its  neighbors,  that  by  morn- 
ing his  enemy  will  be  entrenched  behind  breastworks. 
Maynard  bivouacked  on  Thomas'  line.  The  two 
armies  lay  too  near  to  each  other  to  light  tell-tale  camp- 
fires,  and  as  all  equipage  had  been  sent  to  the  rear  and 
blankets  were  scarce  the  army  spent  the  night  shiver- 
ing. The  wood  was  too  thick  to  see  anything  above 
the  lower  branches.  The  men  needed  sleep,  but  it 
would  be  as  easy  to  sleep  on  the  battlefield  as  in  the 
continuous  clatter  of  those  axes.  Besides,  distrust  had 
come  upon  the  whole  army.  It  was  an  anxious  night 
tp  the  generals,  and  the  men  partook  of  the  solici- 


CHICK  A  MA  L  GA .  239 

tude  of  their  commanders.  It  was  known  that  the 
enemy  had  been  reinforced  from  Virginia,  Knoxville, 
and  other  points.  It  was  rumored  that  Burnside  was 
coming,  but  Burnside  did  not  come.  To  a  natural 
fatigue  was  added  that  more  appalling  weariness  of 
being  constantly  in  the  presence  of  death,  and  the  cer- 
tainty that  when  the  soldier  should  rise  in  the  morning 
the  grim  specter  would  rise  with  him  to  haunt  him  for 
another  day. 

At  midnight  the  corps  and  division  generals  met 
at  headquarters  for  a  council  of  war.  All  believed 
that  the  Army  of  the  Cumberland  had  been  sacrificed; 
that  they  had  been  pushed  forward  without  adequate 
preparation  or  support,  and  that  the  enemy  from  even 
distant  Virginia  had  been  permitted  to  slip  away  to 
overwhelm  them.  There  was  dissatisfaction  at  the  past 
and  foreboding  for  the  morrow.  As  they  rode  away 
to  rejoin  their  commands,  many  an  officer  ground  his 
teeth  and  muttered  imprecations  upon  those  whose 
mismanagement  they  considered  had  brought  an  im- 
pending disaster. 

There  is  a  streak  of  gray  in  the  east.  The  com- 
mander-in-chief of  the  men  in  gray  listens  for  the 
sound  of  guns  in  the  hands  of  those  he  has  ordered  to 
begin  the  attack  at  daylight  and  which  are  to  be  a  sig- 
nal for  others.  The  streak  broadens;  day  comes,  the 
sun  rises;  it  is  eight  o'clock.  Still  all  is  silent  along 
the  line.  It  is  only  a  mistake;  only  an  order  not  re- 
ceived or  understood  by  the  general  who  was  to  lead  off, 
but  in  that  mistake  is  involved  possible  failure.  With 
all  the  vaunted  generalship  on  the  field  of  battle  what  is 
it,  after  all,  that  turns  the  tide  except  the  mistakes? 


2  40  CHICK  A  MA  UGA . 

Mark  Maynard,  on  that  Sunday  morning,  was  lying 
with  his  body  in  the  dirt  and  his  head  on  the  root  of  a 
tree.  He  dreamed  that  he  had  just  come  in  from  mak- 
ing a  charge  at  the  head  of  his  brigade,  and  was  ap- 
proaching his  commander  to  report  z  glorious  rucce:;s; 
that  the  general  said  to  him,  after  thankinr  ';im  f ^r  hij 
achievement:  "Colonel,  it  will  give  me  pleasure  to  rec- 
ommend you  for  promotion  to  the  rank  of  briga- 
dier  " 

"General!"  • 

He  awoke  and  saw  Jakey  Slack  looking  down  on 
him.     It  was  he  who  had  spoken  the  word  "General!" 

"General,"  said  Jakey,  as  he  saw  his  friend's  eyes 
open.      "  'T's  ben  a  damned  hard  fight." 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  my  boy,  where  have  you  been, 
and  what  are  you  doing  here?  The  battle  will  open 
soon  again  this  morning.  I  wonder  it  hasn't  opened 
already.     You  must  get  back. " 

"I  thort  I  war  a  sojer. " 

"Well,  Jakey,  you  are  a  soldier;  that's  a  fact;  and 
I'm  not." 

"Reckon  I'll  git  cashyered.  I  ben  away  'thout  any 
furlough." 

"Where?" 

"Wal,  I  thort  I'd  go  'n  see  Souri  afore  the  fight,  cos 
I  mough'nt  hev  no  chance  after  it.  I  mought  git 
killed,  'n  then  I  wouldn't  be  no  good  nohow." 

"Have  you  seen  her?" 

"Yas." 

"And  Laura?"  he  started  up. 

"Yas.^' 

"And  you  told  her " 


CHICK  AM  A  UGA.  H^ 

"Reckon." 

Maynard  paused  in  his  questions;  be  dreaded  to 
know  how  his  wife  had  received  the  news.  Did  she 
condemn  him,  with  the  rest? 

Jakey  put  his  hand  in  the  pocket  of  his  coat  and 
took  out  a  card  on  which  was  a  picture  of  Laura,  hold- 
ing her  child.  Maynard  seized  it  and  in  a  moment  his 
eyes  were  riveted  on  it,  to  the  exclusion  of  all  other 
objects;  his  mind  drank  in  thirstily  all  it  suggested. 

"Mark,"  he  exclaimed  suddenly.  "For  these  you 
must  win  back  your  spurs." 

"Reckon  she  'uns  'ud  like  fo'  ter  hear  y'  talk  that- 
away, "  put  in  Jakey  sympathetically. 

"Jakey,  I'm  a  changed  man.  I  feel  that  I  am  to 
have  a  chance  to  vindicate  myself  on  the  field  to-day. 
For  two  days  I  have  been  fighting  in  the  ranks.  I  have 
had  only  a  private's  opportunity,  and  that  is  to  furnish 
material  for  the  sacrifice  demanded  by  the  god  of  war, 
while  the  god  only  smiles  on  those  who  lead  the  vic- 
tim.    To-day — to-day " 

"Somep'n  '11  turn  up  sho',  you  bet." 

"Come,  we  must  get  some  breakfast.  We'll  need  it 
soon.  This  day  will  decide  the  fate  of  the  Army  of 
the  Cumberland." 

Going  to  a  group  of  soldiers  near  by,  from  whose 
camp-fire  emanated  the  pleasing  odor  of  boiling  coffee, 
the  two  asked  and  received  a  breakfast. 

A  fog  hung  over  the  valley  of  the  Chickamauga 
which  screeend  the  two  armies  from  each  other.  May- 
nard and  Jakey  were  ignorant  of  their  surroundings,  a 
hundred  yards  distant  ;  so  they  munched  their  "hard 
tack"  and  swallowed  their  coft'ee,  quite  willing  to  be 


2  42  CHICK  A  MA  VGA . 

hidden  from  Confederate  fire  while  they  were  doing  so. 
Meanwhile  Jakey  gave  his  friend  an  account  of  his 
trip,  and  how  he  had  arrived  on  the  field  at  noon  the 
day  before. 

"How  did  you  find  me,  Jakey?"  asked  the  hearer. 

"Wal,  I  ast  a  good  many  sojers  and  none  of  'em 
knew  whar  y'  war.  'Bout  dark  I  heard  one  o'  th'  cav- 
alry of  the  old  brigade,  our  brigade^  that  knew  y*.  He 
was  a  tellen  how  y'  went  with  'em  in  a  charge.  They 
all  liked  ter  hev  yer  do  that-a-way.  I  ast  him  whar  I 
mought  find  y',  'n  he  reckoned  he  sor  y'  goen  up  this 
way.     So  I  kem  and  found  y'.     That's  all." 

As  he  finished,  Maynard  exclaimed: 

"Look." 

The  fog  had  suddenly  lifted.  They  were  on  a  ridge 
which  had  been  fortified  during  the  night,  the  works 
resembling  a  horse-shoe.  Their  position  was  on  the 
left  side  of  the  shoe  and  commanded  a  view  up  the 
Chattanooga  road,  which  ran  directly  north  from  where 
they  were.  There,  a  short  distance  east  of  the  road, 
and  overlapping  the  Union  left,  the  lifting  mist  re- 
vealed a  line  of  Confederate  gray.  As  Maynard  spoke, 
with  a  shout  they  rushed  forward  and  took  possession 
of  the  prize  they  had  been  trying  to  grasp  for  two  days. 
They  were  between  the  Union  army  and  Chattanooga. 

Leaving  Jakey  where  they  were,  and  instructing  him 
to  stay  there  till  he  should  return,  Maynard  went  down 
to  take  a  hand  in  the  fight.  He  found  a  dead  soldier, 
whose  musket  and  cartridge-box  he  seized,  and  pushing 
on  to  the  line  of  firing,  took  position  with  an  infantry 
regiment.  The  enemy,  unsupported,  were  driven  from 
the  Chattanooga  road  to  a  ridge  near  by,  where  they 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  243 

halted  and  gave  their  pursuers  a  desperate  fight. 
Then  the  regiment  to  which  Maynard  had  alHed  him- 
self was  ordered  to  another  part  of  the  field  and  he 
went  with  them.  Passing  through  a  thick  fire  of  bul- 
lets, which  were  mingled  with  the  larger  missiles  of 
cannon,  he  encountered  a  sight  that  has  seldom  been 
seen  on  the  field  of  battle.  Crouching  under  a  log  was 
a  little  girl  *  about  eight  years  old,  who  having  got 
caught  in  among  the  disputants,  was  right  in  the  midst 
of  a  battlefield.  Maynard  never  forgot  the  contrast  be- 
tween the  terrified  child  and  the  unmerciful  scenes  sur- 
rounding her.  Being  a  volunteer  he  was  under  no 
man's  orders,  except  as  he  chose  to  obey  them.  Fall- 
ing out  of  the  ranks  he  went  to  the  child,  took  her  up 
in  his  arms  and  while  bullets  pinged  about  them,  and 
shells  screeched  above  them,  carried  her  to  the  rear, 
to  where  he  had  left  Jakey. 

"Here,  Jakey,"  he  said,  setting  her  down  by  the  boy, 
"it's  time  you  have  a  sweetheart,  so  I've  brought  you 
one.  She  comes  to  you  from  the  field  of  battle  and 
probably  won't  stand  any  nonsense.  So  you  must 
treat  her  with  proper  deference." 

"Golly!"  exclaimed  the  boy,  squaring  himself  be- 
fore the  weeping  girl,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets. 

"Take  her  to  that  house  down  there  and  wait  till  I 
come;  that  is,  if  I  ever  do  come;  and,  if  I  don't,  tell 
my  wife  to  look  out  for  this  little  one,  and  if  neces- 
sary provide  for  her.  I  must  go ;  there  is  hard  fight- 
ing at  the  front." 

Jakey  took  the  little  girl  by  the  hand  and  led  her 

*  This  incident  is  related  in  personal  memories  of  an  officer : 
"Steedman  and  his  men  at  Chickamauga." 


244  CHICK  A  MA  UGA . 

away,  while  Maynard  went  over  to  the  south  slope  of 
the  ridge  to  see  what  was  going  on  at  the  right. 
Standing  on  an  eminence  he  looked  down  on  the  con- 
tending lines  toward  the  south. 

The  sun  was  now  standing  midway  between  the 
horizon  and  the  meridian.  The  day  had  thus  far  gone 
without  any  especial  advantage  on  either  side.  Find- 
ing the  left  strong,  the  Confederate  commander  was 
massing  troops  on  the  right  of  the  line  of  blue,  May- 
nard could  see  them  marching  into  position  for  a 
gigantic  effort. 

There  was  a  momentary  lull  in  the  firing  on  the  right 
and  Maynard  thought  that  from  a  distance  he  caught 
the  faintest  sound  of  a  church  bell.  It  might  have 
been  fancy,  for  congregations  would  not  be  likely  to 
meet  near  a  battlefield,  and  the  continued  roar  in  the 
center  and  left  would  likely  have  prevented  a  bell 
being  heard.  At  any  rate,  it  suddenly  occurred  to 
him  that  it  was  Sunday  morning. 

Sunday  morning!  What  a  contrast  between  that  and 
other  Sunday  mornings  he  had  passed.  It  was  near 
eleven  o'clock,  the  hour  when  people  were  assembling 
for  worship,  and  he  pictured  the  neatly  dressed  throngs 
moving  to  church,  while  bells  were  ringing  in  the  bel- 
fries. All  over  the  broad  land  congregations  were  as- 
sembling, unmindful  of  the  struggle  that  was  going  on 
at  Chickamauga.  Doubtless  in  the  early  morning  in 
the  cities  "extras"  had  announced  the  battle  of  the 
day  before;  doubtless  in  many  there  was  a  feverish  in- 
terest in  the  news  from  the  front,  and  in  some  an  anx- 
iety for  dear  ones  exposed  there;  but  the  vast  throng 
of  worshipers,  North  and  South,  were  about  to  bend  the 


CHICKAMAUGA.  ^45 

knee  in  adoration  of  a  beneficent  Creator,  while  two 
armies  representing  them  were  grappling  in  a  death 
struggle. 

But  an  event  occurred  at  that  moment  to  put  to 
flight  all  thought  in  Maynard  of  what  was  passing  else- 
where. The  enemy  were  moving  to  the  attack.  As 
Maynard  glanced  toward  the  Union  line,  to  see  if  it  was 
in  condition,  he  saw  a  division  face  to  the  left  and 
begin  a  march  in  rear  of  another  division,  leaving  its 
place  in  the  line  a  defenseless,  yawning  gap. 

"Great  Heavens!     Some  one  has  blundered!" 

"Halt!  Go  back!  Great  God!  what  are  you 
doing?" 

Who  could  hear  him  at  such  a  distance,  who  would 
obey  him  if  heard?  Oh,  the  agony  of  a  sight  like  that! 
To  see  men  marching  not  only  to  their  own  destruction 
but  the  destruction  of  their  comrades ;  doubtless  of  the 
whole  army  ;  and  without  the  power  to  prevent  them ! 
Oh,  for  a  battery  with  which  to  fire  smoke  over  that 
death-trap,  to  conceal  it.  Oh,  for  a  cyclone  to  blow 
dust  in  the  eyes  of  those  Confederates.  God  grant 
that  the  stupidity  which  prevails  in  war  may  seize  those 
Southern  generals,  now;  that  they  may  not  reap  this 
offered  advantage.  May  they  be  blinded.  God  !  this 
is  terrible. 

"There!  They  see  it.  They  are  preparing  to 
march  through  it.  There  they  go.  Hear  those 
cheers:  that  'rebel  yell.'  They're  near  it;  they're  in 
it.  Our  men  are  breaking  on  the  right  of  the  gap. 
There  goes  a  regiment,  a  whole  brigade  on  the  left. 
Heavens!  how  those  gray  coats  leap  forward.  It's  a 
splendid  sight,  if  they  are  Confederates.     They  know 


246  CHICK  A  MA  VGA . 

it's  all  up  with  us.  The  whole  right  of  the  army  is 
giving  way ;  broken,  scattering  pell-mell  over  the  field, 
chased  by  the  Southerners  pouring  volley  upon  vol- 
ley after  them." 

"Stop  and  rally!  No,  no  one  could  rally  troops  on 
the  breast  of  Niagara.  But  there's  a  crumb  of  com- 
fort: those  men  nearest  this  way  are  bending  back 
like  wrought  iron.  They  are  not  breaking.  Good! 
There's  a  faint  hope  for  the  left.  But,  O  Lord,  what's 
the  left,  with  the  right  and  center  gone?" 

That  historic  blunder,  followed  by  that  historic  dis- 
aster, carried  away  in  the  maelstrom,  the  general-in- 
chief  of  the  army,  the  leader  of  a  corps,  and  several 
division  commanders.  There  was  no  rallying  point  till 
Mibsionary  Ridge  was  reached,  and  that  was  four  miles 
away.  Fortunately  for  the  rest  of  the  army  some  of 
the  troops  belonging  on  the  right  of  the  Union  line  had 
been  sent  to  strengthen  the  left.  These  were  saved  from 
the  rout,  and  ready  to  stand  by  the  still  unbroken  left. 

And  now  comes  a  spectacle,  a  contrast  which  must 
always  stand  out  a  splendid  monument  of  heroic  en- 
durance in  the  great  cemetery  of  war — the  spectacle 
of  an  army,  one-half  routed,  gone,  driven  like  dry 
leaves,  before  the  wind,  the  remaining  half  holding  in 
check  for  more  than  half  a  day  a  force  against  which  the 
whole  had  found  it  difficult  to  contend.  Standing  in 
the  center  of  the  "horse-shoe,"  the  fortification  of 
which  his  wisdom  has  constructed  during  the  night, 
General  Thomas,  intent  upon  guiding  the  troops  of  his 
own  corps,  with  no  word  from  his  commander-in-chief, 
for  a  time  not  knowing,  or  at  least  not  admitting,  that  the 
army  is  by  all  the  rules  that  govern  the  science  of  war 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  247 

defeated,  goes  on  fighting  as  if  there  is  but  one  Army 
of  the  Cumberland,  and  that  composed  of  the  troops 
under  his  command. 

The  right  put  to  flight,  the  Confederates  prepare  to 
crush  the  remainder  of  the  army.  All  around  the 
"horse-shoe"  they  gather  their  forces,  and  hurl  them 
against  the  blue-coats.  The  first  onset  fails.  There 
must  be  another.  A  second  wave  goes  rolling  on  and 
dashes  against  the  logs  behind  which  the  one-armed 
Army  of  the  Cumberland  is  fixed.  It  recedes  without 
making  a  breach.  It  will  need  more  such  waves — a 
constantly  beating  surf.  Surely  that  curve,  with  flanks 
bent  almost  in  a  circle,  almost  touching,  cannot  be 
called  a  line  of  battle ;  it  may  be  a  curve  of  battle,  but 
how  can  such  a  curve  stand  against  the  whole  Army 
of  Tennessee? 

But  this  curved  array  of  bayonets  is  too  tough  to  be 
broken  in  front.  It  must  be  taken  in  flank.  There  is 
a  ridge  just  beyond  the  right  heel  of  the  "horse-shoe"; 
it  has  been  abandoned  by  the  Unionists;  no  one  seems 
to  know  why.  Climb  up.  Confederates,  seize  this 
ridge;  it  commands  the  Union  right.  Once  firmly 
lodged  there  you  can  hammer  them  unmercifully. 

And  the  gray  coats  do  climb  the  ridge  and  drag 
artillery  with  them. 

The  Union  commander  sees  them,  and  at  a  glance 
discerns  that  without  a  force  to  drive  them  from  it  his 
army  is  lost.  There  is  no  such  force;  every  man  is 
engaged,  and  needed  where  he  is.  The  general's 
brow  is  knit  and  his  square  mouth  sets  even  more 
firmly  than  before. 

"There  is  a  cloud  of  dust  rising  over  there  to  the 


248  CHICKAMAUGA. 

north,  General,  and  men  marching  under  it,"  said  an 
aide.     "I  wonder  who  they  are?" 

It  makes  a  great  difference  to  the  hounded  general 
whether  they  are  friends  or  enemies.  He  looks  anx- 
iously in  the  direction  pointed  out  by  his  aide  and 
orders  him  to  reconnoiter  the  uncertain  column.  The 
officer  rides  forward  to  a  point  where  he  can  get  a  good 
view,  draws  rein,  dismounts,  and  climbing  a  fence 
brings  a  field-glass  to  bear  on  the  advancing  troops. 
They  are  far  from  him;  they  are  covered  with  dust, 
and  their  flags  are  furled,  so  that  he  cannot  tell  whether 
they  are  blue  or  gray.  If  they  are  gray,  that  means 
destruction  for  the  troops  defending  themselves  in  the 
horse-shoe.  If  they  are  blue,  they  may  serve  as  a  for- 
lorn hope  on  the  ridge  commanding  the  Union  right. 

The  aide  not  only  sees  these  troops,  but  the  troops 
see  the  aide.  They  too  wonder  if  he  is  blue  or  gray. 
Neither  can  tell,  but  from  his  position  they  suspect  him 
to  wear  blue.      At  any  rate,  they  assume  that  he  does. 

Suddenly  every  flag  is  unfurled  displaying  the  stars 
and  stripes. 

Enough'  Mounting  his  horse  the  aide  rides  over 
the  ground  between  him  and  the  head  of  the  advanc- 
ing column. 

"Who  are  these  troops?" 

"The  first  divison  of  the  Reserve  Corps." 

Posted  at  the  opening  of  the  struggle  to  guard  a 
bridge  across  the  Chickamauga,  on  the  extreme  north 
of  the  battlefield,  with  orders  to  hold  it  at  all  hazards, 
this  division  had  for  two  days  listened  to  the  sounds  of 
fighting  without  firing  a  shot.  The  Confederates  had 
made  a  crossing  without  using  the  bridge  watched,  and 
the  division  was  a  useless  guard.     On  Sunday  morn- 


CHICKAMA  UGA.  249 

ing  its  commander,  chafing  at  inaction,  yet  dreading 
the  consequences  that  might  occur  the  blame  attend- 
ing a  disobedience  of  orders,  determined  to  burn  the 
bridge  and  march  to  the  relief  of  comrades  whom  he 
divined  were  being  hard  pressed.  Gathering  his  prin- 
cipal officers  in  a  church  near  by,  he  announced  to  them 
what  he  proposed  to  do.  The  little  church,  unused  at 
that  hour  of  that  holy  day  to  anything  more  vigorous 
than  a  minister  pounding  the  pulpit  or  the  strains  of 
Old  Hundred,  rang  with  the  assenting  acclamations  of 
soldiers. 

Marching  through  fields  of  yellow  corn,  guided  only 
by  the  distant  but  continuous  roar,  the  division  each 
moment  lessened  the  distance  between  it  and  the  army 
whose  fate  hung  on  its  quick  coming.  The  direction 
taken  led  them  toward  the  north  side  of  the  "horse- 
shoe," and  the  rear  of  the  Confederates.  First  a  small 
body  of  Confederate  cavalry,  guarding  a  hospital,  were 
met.  These  were  easily  scattered,  and  the  column 
moved  on.  Striking  the  Chattanooga  road  the  division 
marched  on  down  it.  There  were  heights  to  the  east, 
and  on  these  were  guns.  It  was  plain  to  the  gunners 
that  the  advancing  column  was  a  rescuing  column. 
They  opened  fire  to  delay  it.  The  Union  troops  did 
not  heed  them ;  there  was  a  more  important  enemy,  a 
more  important  work  further  on. 

But  they  were  marching  directly  in  rear  of  the  Con- 
federate line.  Filing  to  the  right,  through  an  orchard 
and  open  fields  beyond,  they  came  to  a  point  where 
the  dim  outline  of  the  troops  engaged  could  be  seen 
through  the  overhanging  clouds  of  smoke.  The  Re- 
serve halted  in  a  field  between  the  two  bent  flanks—^ 
jhe  two  heels  of  the  "horse-shoe." 


XXVI. 

STORMING    THE    RIDGE. 

MARK  MAYNARD  was  standing  holding  Madge 
by  the  bridle,  surveying  the  battlefield.  He  heard 
a  gun  fired  from  the  crest  of  the  ridge  so  important  to 
both  armies.  He  turned  and  saw  the  shell  it  sent, 
whirl  in  a  spiral,  screeching  above  the  heads  of  two 
officers,  evidently  of  high  rank,  standing  in  a  field  near 
the  center  of  the  "horse-shoe."  One  of  them,  a  large, 
massive  man,  he  recognized  as  General  Thomas.  The 
other  was  the  commander  of  the  newly  arrived  division. 
As  Maynard  looked  the  latter  rode  away.  He  was 
going  with  orders  to  retake  the  ridge. 

Maynard  had  not  seen  General  Thomas  for  months. 
Indeed  he  had  met  him  but  a  few  times  since  the 
days  when  he  was  the  general's  favorite  scout.  Re- 
membering his  disgrace  he  was  about  to  go  away,  not 
caring,  in  his  altered  condition,  to  meet  the  man  for 
whom  of  all  the  army  he  felt  the  greatest  reverence. 
But  the  general  turned  before  he  could  do  so,  and 
looked  in  his  direction. 

It  was  too  late  to  go  away  unobserved,  and  Maynard 
felt  a  desire  to  discover  if  there  were  not  something 
after  all  in  this  great  soldier  so  great  that  he  could 
afford  to  give  him  a  kind  word.  He  walked  toward 
the  spot  where  the  general  stood. 

"What  are  you  doing  here,  my  man?"  said  the  com- 
250 


CHICK  AM  A  UGA .  25 1 

mander  of  all  there  was  left  of  the  Army  of  the  Cum- 
berland, sternly,  seeing  the  begrimed  Maynard  in  pri- 
vate's uniform  and  not  recognizing  him.  "Why  are 
you  not  with  your  regiment?" 

"I  have  no  regiment,  general." 

"Your  troop,  then." 

"I  have  no  troop.     I  am  not  a  soldier." 

"Who  are  you?" 

"Mark  Malone." 

The  sternness  on  the  general's  face  slightly  relaxed. 

"Ah,  Colonel  Maynard.  Pardon  me.  I  did  not 
recognize  you." 

"No,  general.  I  was  Co] or) e\  Maynard;  I  am  now 
a  private  citizen.  I  would  be  glad  to  assume  my  old 
scouting  name,  Mark  Malone." 

"I  heard  of  your  —  misfortune.  I  regretted  it 
doubly,  remembering  your  services  when  you  were 
scouting." 

"Yes,  general ;  then  my  services  had  some  value.  I 
was  fitted  for  a  scout,  a  spy.  You  thought  I  was  fitted 
for  something  better  and  advanced  me.  I  was  vain 
enough  to  think  you  right.  I  did  not  know  myself. 
As  a  spy  I  needed  no  conscience;  I  was  not  subservi- 
ent to  any  principle.  When,  as  a  brigade  commander, 
I  was  obliged  to  choose  on  higher  ground,  I  failed,  in 
the  choice.  I  have  proven  myself  unworthy  of  your 
confidence.  I  have  sunk  to  the  level  from  which  I 
started." 

The  general  did  not  reply;  he  was  watching  the 
newly  arrived  division  getting  into  position. 

"You  connived  at  the  escape  of  a  spy,  I  thinkj''' 
he  said  presently. 


252  CHICK  A  MA  VGA . 

"Worse.      T  assisted  in  that  escape." 

"A  woman:  was  she  not?" 

"She  was,  general." 

"H'm.  It  isn't  a  pleasant  task  to  shoot  a  woman. 
Yet  a  soldier  must  do  his  duty." 

Maynard  did  not  reply. 

"Colonel,  there  is  going  to  be  a  weak  spot  there.  1 
would  like  you  to  go  and  see  that  that  gap  is  closed. 
My  staff  are  all  away,  as  you  see,  on  some  duty.  Ah! 
Never  mind.  They  are  marching  by  the  flank,  I  see. 
Now  it's  all  right." 

He  was  so  intent  upon  the  forming  of  the  line  that 
for  a  moment  Maynard  thought  he  had  forgotten  his 
presence. 

"Who  was  this  woman?"  the  general  asked,  pres- 
ently. 

"You  remember  when  I  went  to  Chattanooga  to 
bring  you  information  of  Bragg's  movements  to  Ken- 
tucky, I  met  a  Confederate  officer — a  Captain  Fitz 
Hugh,  who  twice  gave  me  my  life?" 

"Yes,  yes,  I  remember.  They're  standing  well 
down  there  in  the  center,  and  with  so  little  ammuni- 
tion. They'll  get  their  new  cartridges  presently  from 
those  brought  by  the  reserve  division.  The  ammuni- 
tion comes  as  opportunely  as  the  men." 

"They're  making  a  good  fight  everywhere,"  ob^ 
served  Maynard. 

"Let  me  see ;  you  say  you  were  called  upon  to  shoot 
a  woman.     She  was  some  relative  to  this  Captain " 

"Now  Colonel  Fitz  Hugh.      A  sister." 

"That  made  it  pretty  hard  for  you,  colonel.  But  a 
soldier  must  do  his  duty," 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  253 

"Have  the  Confederates  possession  of  that  ridge, 
General?" 

"They  have." 

"And  are  our  men  going  to  retake  it?" 

"They're  going  to  try." 

Maynard  swept  his  eye  over  the  position. 

"They  f/iusi  take  it." 

The  general  shot  a  quick  glance  at  the  degraded 
officer. 

"You  think  it  important?" 

"The  fate  of  this  part  of  an  army — it  can't  be 
called  a  whole  one — depends  upon  it." 

"You  are  right,  Colonel.  We  must  take  that  ridge, 
or  before  nightfall  be  flying  over  this  field  like  the  right 
and  center;  or  what  is  worse,  be  captured.  Thisisnot 
the  first  time  I  have  observed  that  your  eye  is  made 
for  war. ' ' 

Maynard  had  become  so  engrossed  that  he  did  not 
hear;  he  almost  forgot  his  chief's  presence. 

"I  haven't  a  command  to  lead  up  that  hill,  but  I 
have  arms  to  carry  a  musket.  I'll  go  in  the  ranks 
where  I've  been  since  the  fight  began,"  and  he 
started  in  the  direction  of  the  Reserve. 

"Stay,  Colonel,"  called  the  general. 

Maynard  turned  and  walked  back  to  where  the 
general  was  standing.  He  waited  for  him  to  speak 
further;  but  he  did  not.  Minutes  passed,  while  May- 
nard watched  the  absorbed  commander,  who  in  turn 
was  watching  the  line  forming  below. 

"Colonel  Maynard,"  he  said  at  last,  "do  you  see 
that  regiment  down  there?  It  seems  to  be  short  of 
officers.     So  far  as  I  can  judge  from  its  movements  no 


254  CHICK  A  MA  UGA . 

one  is  in  command.  I  shall  have  to  make  an  infantry- 
man of  you,  though  you  are  of  the  cavalry.  Go  and 
lead  that  regiment  in  the  attack  about  to  be  made  on 
the  ridge." 

"But,  general " 

"There  is  no  time  for  buts,  sir." 

"1  am  a  civilian,  with  no  right  to  command." 

"You  are  in  the  service  till  the  finding  of  the  court 
that  condemned  you  has  been  approved. ' '  Then  to  an 
aide,  who  rode  up  at  the  moment:  "Captain,  go  with 
Colonel  Maynard  and  place  him  in  command  of  that 
regiment, "  pointing.  "And  let  there  be  no  mistake. 
If  the  order  is  questioned  say  that  the  exigencies  of  a 
critical  moment  demand  that  it  be  obeyed." 

Maynard  tried  to  speak  the  grateful  words  that  rose 
to  his  lips,  but  either  he  could  not,  or  he  saw  that  the 
general's  eye  had  caught  a  new  point  of  danger,  and 
was  absorbed  in  it.  Mounting  Madge  he  rode  away 
with  the  staff  officer. 

There  was  wonder  on  the  faces  of  the  men  who  saw 
a  new  commander  in  the  uniform  of  a  private  of  cav- 
alry put  temporarily  in  place  to  lead  them.  For  a  mo- 
ment a  murmur  ran  along  the  line,  but  some  one  recog- 
nized him — one  who  knew  his  mettle — and  word  was 
passed:   "It's  the  cavalryman.  Colonel  Maynard." 

None  cared,  at  that  critical  moment,  for  his  recent 
trial,  so  long  as  there  was  one  at  their  head  who  could 
lead  them  in  what  they  all  saw  must  be  a  desperate 
effort. 

Amid  the  incessant  thunders  that  burst  everywhere 
around  the  line  of  that  horse-shoe  curve  of  battle  is  one 
place  where  there  is  no  firing.     It  is  at  the  ridge,  where 


CHICK  AM  A  UGA.  255 

men  are  forming  at  its  base  for  a  desperate  attempt, 
and  on  its  top  others  are  preparing  to  receive  them 
with  lead  enough  to  teach  them  the  futility  of  so  pre- 
sumptuous a  move. 

All  is  ready.  The  line  is  formed.  Seventy-five 
hundred  men  are  about  to  push  toward  the  realms  of 
death,  and  a  larger  proportion  of  them  are  to  enter 
there.  At  the  word  '  'forward  !  "  the  skirmishers  move 
out  into  the  thicket  that  covers  the  side  of  the  disputed 
ridge,  followed  by  the  regular  battle  line,  all  climbing 
the  hill  together. 

Glance  the  eye  along  the  line.  There  is  the  officer, 
his  mind  intent  on  keeping  his  men  up  to  the  trying 
work  before  them;  the  officer  intent  in  keeping  himself 
steady  before  the  eyes  of  the  line  he  leads.  There  are 
the  faces  in  the  ranks,  most  of  them,  if  not  all,  stamped 
with  a  serious  cast,  a  dread  under  control,  with  the 
thought  of  each  that  in  a  few  minutes  he  may  be  lying, 
pierced  by  a  bullet  or  maimed  by  a  shell.  A  few  there 
are  whose  remarkable  physical  nerve,  or  in  whom  a 
natural  excitable  temperament,  gives  them  an  appear- 
ance of  exhilaration ;  but  such  are  often  the  most 
depressed  just  before  they  are  well  in  the  fight. 

While  the  line  of  blue  climbs  the  side  of  the  ridge, 
all  is  quiet  above;  a  quiet  that  brings  a  suspense 
harder  to  bear  than  a  scattering  fire.  It  promises  a 
tempest  when  it  comes.  And  it  comes  soon.  From  a 
concealed  line,  near  the  top,  suddenly  there  is  a  myriad 
of  explosions.  Every  missile  known  to  war  is  sent 
down  to  stagger  that  blue  line.  The  first  crop  of 
human  flesh  lies  under  the  reaper. 

There  was  pandemonium  on  that  hillside  for  forty 


2  5  6  CfllCKA  MA  UGA . 

minutes.  It  was  an  eventful  fight  for  many  a  man,  not 
considering  those  who  were  laid  low  by  missiles  of  war. 
There  were  a  few  whose  place  it  was  to  lead,  in  whom 
a  constitutional  inability  rendered  it  impossible  for 
them  to  face  such  a  storm.  They  were  ordered  back; 
their  places  filled  by  those  made  of  sterner  stuff. 
There  were  soldiers  in  the  ranks  who  skulked,  but  their 
officers  drove  them  on.  The  main  force  of  that  reserve 
division  of  Union  troops  showed  a  united  strength  of 
purpose,  which,  if  it  could  be  transferred  to  a  different 
field,  a  field  of  moral  heroism,  would  make  an  army 
of  gods. 

Mark  Maynard  climbed  Avith  the  rest.  For  a  mo- 
ment when  that  storm  burst,  the  instincts  of  a  human 
being,  acting  upon  him  suddenly,  made  him  recoil.  A 
number  of  quick  recollections  flashed  before  him  :  his 
position;  the  chance  given  him  to  redeem  the  past,  the 
consciousness  that  men  looked  to  him  for  strength  in 
that  trying  moment.  They  were  all  as  nothing  com- 
pared with  one  other;  one  which  prevented  any  further 
giving  back.  It  was  not  a  desire  for  death;  that  was 
too  near.  It  was  not  a  desire  tc  show  prowess  at  a 
moment  when  men  were  either  quailing  or  making 
records  as  heroes.  At  that  terrible  moment  there 
came  before  him,  a  picture  so  sweet,  so  innocent,  that 
one  may  well  wonder  how  it  could  have  appeared  amid 
such  frightful  scenes.  It  was  the  photograph  of  his 
wife  and  boy.  With  it  flashed  the  thought:  "All  for 
them;   for  myself,  nothing." 

Whether  he  needed  this  to  nerve  him  to  do  his 
duty,  certain  it  is  that  from  this  moment  he  forgot 
danger.     One  idea  absorbed    his   entire    being;   that 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  2^7 

whether  he  lived  or  died  word  should  go  back  to  those 
he  loved  better  than  himself,  that  he  was  at  least  not 
among  the  flinchers.  Once  this  idea  possessed  him, 
he  was  a  machine — a  cog  moving  three  hundred 
wheels.  He  knew  nothing  of  the  deafening  sounds; 
he  was  oblivious  to  bullets  or  shells.  Like  the  picture 
of  the  Sistine  Madonna,  was  ever  present  the  gentle 
face  and  figure  of  a  woman  holdmg  up  a  child. 
Mother  and  child,  in  the  famous  painting,  have  for 
centuries  stood  forth  a  divine  light  to  lead  the  world 
from  sin;  mother  and  child,  in  the  eyes  of  Mark 
Maynard,  were  a  divine  light  to  lead  him  out  of  the 
deptlis  into  which  he  had  fallen  by  a  violation  of  prin- 
ciple. 

The  time  of  probation  was  short,  but  not  too  short 
for  Maynard's  bearing  to  have  its  effect.  Among  the 
few  who  held  the  men  together,  during  that  brief  strug- 
gle for  the  life  of  the  army,  he  took  an  important  part. 
The  ridge  was  won,  and  one  of  the  first  regiments  on 
it  was  that  commanded  by  Colonel  Mark  Maynard. 

The  ridge  was  not  only  won;  it  was  held.  But  who 
can  depict  the  holding?  It  was  by  a  repetition  of 
struggles  like  the  one  that  took  it,  only  the  gray 
attacked,  while  the  blue  defended.  Eight  times  the 
Confederates  charged  and  eight  times  they  were  driven 
back.  Night  came;  there  was  no  light  whereby  to 
make  another.  The  ridge  was  in  Union  keeping; 
the  Army  of  the  Cumberland  was  saved. 

Relinquishing  his  command  Maynard  rode  through 
twenty-five  hundred  dead  and  wounded  of  the  seventy- 
five  hundred  men  who  climbed  the  hillside  a  few  hours 
before,  to  General  Thomas'  headquarters. 


:2  5  ^  CHIC  ft  A  MA  UGA . 

"Have  you  any  further  commands,  General?"  he 
asked. 

"Ah,  Colonel  Maynard.  Let  me  thank  you,  among 
others,  for  your  work.  You  men  over  there  have  saved 
us.  I  want  you  to  go  back  to  the  cavalry  and  com- 
mand one  of  several  forces  intended  to  cover  our  re- 
treat.    We  must  get  back  to-night  to  a  safer  position." 

"I  await  your  orders,  General." 

"Colonel,"  added  the  general,  turning  upon  him  a 
kindly,  approving  eye,  "there  are  a  number  to  be 
rewarded  for  to-day's  work;  among  them  yourself. 
If  we  get  safely  out  of  this,  I  shall  make  a  suitable 
acknowledgment  of  your  services." 


XXVII. 

AN    IMPORTANT    LETTER. 

'"pHE  battle  of  Chickamauga  is  over.  The  Army 
1  of  the  Cumberland  has  withdrawn  to  Chatta- 
nooga, safe  for  the  present,  at  least,  behind  breast- 
works. Their  enemies  are  looking  down  upon  them 
from  the  heights  that  encircle  the  town,  waiting  for 
them  to  fall  an  easy  prey  through  starvation.  Colo- 
nel Maynard  is  awaiting  the  result  of  army  red-tape 
in  the  matter  of  his  court-martial.  The  papers  in  the 
case  were  lost  in  the  rout  of  the  right,  and  were  for- 
gotten in  his  efforts  to  save  the  left.  At  any  rate,  no  one 
seemed  to  care  anything  about  them.  The  ups  and 
downs  in  military  life  are  rapid,  and  since  the  eclat 
attending  his  gallant  services  on  the  ridge,  his  com- 
rades were  disposed  to  look  upon  his  sacrifice  of  him- 
self for  another  as  rather  a  heroic  act,  after  all,  quite 
in  accord  with  his  peculiar  personality. 

One  day — it  was  perhaps  a  week  after  the  retreat  of 
the  Army  of  the  Cumberland — Maynard  was  sitting  in 
his  tent  with  Jakey  and  the  girl  found  on  the  battle- 
field. Jakey  had  turned  up  in  due  time  and  renewed 
his  services  with  the  deposed  colonel.  True,  that 
colonel's  position  was  somewhat  anomalous.  He  was 
in  no  great  need  of  an  orderly,  but  was  disposed  to 
avail  himself  of  Jakey's  friendship.  He  had  neither 
seen  nor  communicated  with  his  wife,  feeling  a  disin- 

259 


^^o  CHICKAMAUGA. 

clination  to  do  so  until  something  definite  should 
occur  to  establish  his  future  status  with  the  army. 
Jakey  therefore  continued  to  be  the  only  friend  "  pres- 
ent for  duty." 

"  You  say,"  said  Maynard  to  Jakey,  on  the  occasion 
mentioned,  "  that  you  left  her  at  the  house  to  which  I 
told  you  to  take  her,  and  took  a  hand  in  the  fight." 

"  Reckon." 

"Where  did  you  get  anything  to  fight  with  ? " 

"  Dead  sojer.     Tuk  his  gun  'n  cartridges." 

"  Upon  my  word  !  I  wonder  the  enemy  stood 
against  such  a  reinforcement." 

"  Wal,  I  shot  one  of  'em,  anyway.  We  was  tuk  by 
lots  more  'n  we  'uns,  'n  was  runnen.  Suddcnt  I 
hearn  a  man  say,  '  Stop,  thar,  y'  little  Yankee  rascal  ! ' 
1  turned  roun'  'n  sor  a  ossifer  on  horseback.  He 
called  on  me  fo'  ter  surrender,  'n  I  up  en  shot  him."* 

"  You  don't  mean  it  ?  " 

"  Reckon." 

"Then  what  did  you  do  ?  " 

"  Wal,  tother  uns,  they  went  on  'n  I  skedaddled." 

"Well?" 

"Then  I  went  back  t'  the  house  'n  found  Jennie, 
'n  by  that  time  't  was  gitten  dark,  'n  the  army  com- 
menced t'  retreat.  We  'uns  retreated  with  the  rest  on 
em." 

"  On  foot  ?  " 

"  Yas,  part  o'  the  way.  Jennie,  she  got  tired,  so  we 
sat  down  by  ther  road  till  some  cavalry  [Jakey  had 
learned  not  to  call  them  critter  companies]  came  along 

*  An  incident  similar  to  this  occurred  at  Chickamauga.  A  boy 
of  twelve  years  shot  a  Confederate  officer,  and  was  made  a  sergeant. 


CHICK  A  MA  UCA .  261 

after  the  infantry  bed  all  passed.  One  on  em  said, 
'  Ef  that  haint  Colonel  Maynard's  orderly.'  *  'N 
with  a  little  gal,'  said  another.  Then  the  fust  on  em 
tuk  me  on  behind  him  'n  tother  un  tuk  Jennie  on 
before  him,  'n  we  'uns  all  covered  the  retreat." 

"  A  valuable  acquisition  to  the  rear-guard,"  ob- 
served Maynard,  and  he  began  to  question  the  little 
girl.  He  discovered  that  she  was  the  daughter  of  a 
farmer  living  on  the  battlefield,  who  had  neglected  to 
remove  his  family  till  the  last  minute.  Caught  in  the 
midst  of  a  fight,  all  became  panicstricken,  and  the 
child  was  separated  from  the  rest. 

While  he  was  gaining  this  information  an  orderly 
came  to  his  tent  and  showed  him  a  letter  post-marked 
County  Cavan,  Ireland,  and  addressed  to  the  man  who 
had  assisted  in  the  escape  of  Caroline  Fitz  Hugh. 
But  there  were  features  of  the  address  which  led 
Maynard  to  doubt  if  it  was  not  for  some  other  Ratigan. 

"  Where  did  you  get  this  ?"  he  asked. 

"  It  came  in  with  the  mail.  It's  been  lying  un- 
claimed for  several  days,  as  no  one  knows  who  it  is 
for.  There  was  a  Ratigan  in  the — th  Cavalry,  but 
he  is  among  the  missing.  The  letter  was  taken  to 
the  headquarters  of  that  regiment,  and  Colonel 
Burke  suggested  that  you  might  know  something 
about  the  man." 

"Ah,  yes,"  said  Maynard,  sadly.  "You  can  tell 
Colonel  Burke  that  I  saw  Ratigan  killed.  But  this 
reminds  me,"  he  added.  "  I  must  see  if  I  can  regain 
his  body."  Then  to  the  orderly  :  "  I  wish  you  would 
say  to  Major  Burke  that  if  he  will  give  me  an  escort 
I'll  go  out  under  flag  of  truce  and  see  if  I  can  find  out 


262  CHICK  A  MA  UGA . 

anything  about  Corporal  Ratigan,  whom  I  saw  fall 
from  his  horse  in  the  enemy's  lines.  Ask  him  to 
make  out  a  request  for  permission  to  send  out  the 
flag,  forward  it,  and  let  me  know  the  result." 

The  result  was  a  permission  to  send  out  "  the  flag," 
and  the  next  morning,  after  an  early  breakfast.  Colonel 
Maynard,  accompanied  by  Jakey  and  the  little  girl, 
whom  Maynard  hoped  to  restore  to  her  parents,  each 
mounted,  and  all  attended  by  a  lieutenant  and  twenty 
men,  set  out  from  Chattanooga  toward  Mission 
Ridge.  They  met  the  enemy's  pickets  at  the  base  of 
the  ridge,  and  were  conducted  to  Rossville.  Colonel 
Maynard  at  once  requested  that  he  might  be  accorded 
an  interview  with  Colonel  Fitz  Hugh,  if  that  officer 
survived  the  battle.  A  messenger  was  sent  to  sum- 
mon him,  and  as  he  had  some  miles  to  go,  "■  the  flag" 
party  dismounted,  were  taken  into  a  house,  where  they 
awaited  the  officer's  arrival.  Every  attention  was 
shown  them,  and  they  were  made  as  comfortable  as 
possible.  Two  hours  after  the  departure  of  the  cou- 
rier, Colonel  Fitz  Hugh  rode  up  to  the  door. 

There  was  always  a  certain  embarrassment  between 
these  two  men,  which  under  the  circumstances  was 
quite  natural,  but  which  was  heightened  by  the  ha- 
bitual dignity  with  which  Fitz  Hugh  bore  himself. 
There  was  much  to  force  them  apart,  and  much  to 
draw  them  together,  but  it  all  resulted  in  constraint. 
Fitz  Hugh  lifted  his  hat  to  Maynard,  then  advanced, 
and  put  out  his  hand.  Neither  seemed  to  think  of 
appropriate  words  of  greeting,  and  there  was  a  few 
moments  of  silence,  which  was  broken  by  Maynard 
referring  to  his  mission. 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  263 

"  Colonel,"  he  said,  "  I  am  the  bearer  of  a  letter  for 
Corporal  Ratigan — though  the  superscription  gives  a 
different  title  than  corporal — the  man  who  assisted  me 
on  the  mission  which  you  doubtless  well  remember. 
I  saw  Ratigan  fall  from  his  horse  and  suppose  that  he 
is  dead.     Am  I  right  ?  " 

"  No,  sir.  Corporal  Ratigan  lives.  He  was  severely 
wounded  by  a  shot  from  your  men.  He  managed  to 
keep  his  saddle  till  his  work  was  accomplished,  when 
he  fainted  through  loss  of  blood.  For  a  time  his  life 
hung  in  the  balance.    We  now  hope  for  his  recovery." 

"  I  am  rejoiced  to  hear  it.  Perhaps  this  letter  is 
for  him.     Will  you  attend  to  its  delivery  ?  " 

"  If  you  will  ride  with  me  to  Ringold,  where  he  lies, 
you  can  deliver  it  in  person." 

"  That  would  indeed  be  a  pleasure.  Can  you  get 
permission  to  take  me  so  far  within  your  lines  ?  " 

"  I  can  try." 

''  In  that  case  I  may  look,  by  the  way,  for  the  home 
of  this  little  girl.  I  rescued  her  from  the  battlefield, 
where  she  was  lest." 

A  request  was  sent  up  to  headquarters  for  permis- 
sion to  take  Colonel  Maynard  and  two  children  to 
Ringold  and  to  visit  the  recent  field  of  battle  by  the 
way.  While  the  party  were  waiting  for  a  reply  May- 
nard was  introduced  to  a  number  of  Confederate  offi- 
cers, and  the  story  getting  round  that  he  had  saved 
the  life  of  a  Confederate  emissary — the  sister  of 
Colonel  Fitz  Hugh — he  soon  found  himself  an  object 
of  interest.  There  was  little  disposition  to  inquire 
into  the  right  or  wrong  of  his  act ;  the  service  was 
quite  sufficient,  and  the  deposed  colonel  was  as  highly 


2^4  CHICK  A  MA  UGA . 

honored  among  the  Confederates  as  he  had  been  con- 
demned by  his  comrades. 

Permission  came  for  Colonel  Fitz  Hugh  to  take  the 
party  forward,  leaving  the  escort  at  Rossville  and  tak- 
ing Colonel  Maynard's  parole  not  to  divulge  anything 
he  might  see  to  the  Union  commanders  ;  a  useless 
provision,  for  there  was  nothing  of  importance  by  the 
way  for  him  to  see. 

It  was  a  singular  party  that  crisp  October  morning, 
cantering  down  the  Chattanooga  and  Lafayette  road — 
the  recent  bone  of  contention — toward  the  now  de- 
serted battlefield.  Maynard  and  Fitz  Hugh  rode 
together  at  the  front.  Then  came  Jakey  and  Jennie, 
both  mounted  like  the  rest,  while  a  troop  of  Confeder- 
ate cavalry  formed  the  escort.  The  two  colonels 
talked  on  everything  except  what  was  uppermost  in 
their  minds.  Fitz  Hugh  several  times  attempted  to 
guide  the  conversation  upon  Maynard's  service  to  his 
sister  in  order  that  he  might  make  a  proper  acknowl- 
edgment, but  Maynard,  foreseeing  his  intention,  always 
made  some  remark  by  way  of  thwarting  him. 

"  There  are  the  heights  from  which  you  shelled  the 
reserve  marching  to  our  relief,"  said  Maynard,  glanc- 
ing to  the  left. 

"  And  here  our  men  found  themselves  near  this 
coveted  road,  over  which  we  are  passing,  when 
the  fog  lifted  on  Sunday  morning,"  replied  the 
other. 

"  Now  we  come  to  the  *  horse-shoe'  ridge.  Let  us 
ride  around  its  base.  From  what  the  little  girl  has 
told  me  I  fancy  she  lives  on  the  road  leading  to 
Reed's  Bridge." 


CHICKAMA  UGA.  265 

"  My  pop  lives  down  thar,"  said  the  child,  pointing 
to  a  cabin  a  mile  below  them. 

Leaving  the  Chattanooga  road  they  followed  another 
leading  around  the  ridge,  soon  striking  a  third  lead- 
ing to  Reed's  Bridge.  When  they  came  fo  the  house 
pointed  out  by  Jennie,  a  man  was  sitting  on  the  fence 
— or  one  section  of  it  which  happened  not  to  have 
been  taken  for  fire-wood  like  the  rest — whittling  a 
stick.  Catching  sight  of  the  child,  as  the  party  rode 
up,  he  went  to  her,  and  taking  her  in  his  arms,  covered 
her  with  kisses.  The  mother,  hearing  the  exclama- 
tions, rushed  out  and  repeated  the  father's  caresses. 

The  parents  expressed  as  well  as  they  were  able, 
and  in  their  humble  way,  their  thanks  to  the  rescuer 
of  their  child,  and  the  party  proceeded  on  their 
way. 

"  Good-by,  Jennie,"  said  her  friend  Jakey  as  he 
rode  off. 

"  Good-by." 

*'  Ef  y'll  write  me  a  letter,  I'll  make  y'  a  doll  outen 
a  corn-cob.     I  know  how  ter  make  'm." 

"  I  can't  write." 

"  Wal,  I'll  do  't  anyhow.  Yer  a  purty  nice  young  'un 
ef  y'  air  only  a  gal." 

Riding  over  Reed's  Bridge  the  party  passed  through 
the  gap  in  the  ridge  beyond,  and  descending  the  east 
slope,  soon  struck  a  road  leading  to  Ringold.  They 
rode  into  the  town  about  noon,  and  soon  drew  rein 
before  the  house  where  Corporal  Ratigan  lay  wounded. 
Fitz  Hugh  and  Maynard  dismounted  and  entered 
together,  Jakey  britigingup  the  rear.  In  the  hallway, 
her     eyes   large    with    astonishment   at   seeing    her 


2  66  CHICK  AM  A  UGA . 

brother  in  company  with  Colonel  Maynard,  stood 
Caroline  Fitz  Hugh. 

If  the  brother  had  failed  in  expressing  his  thanks 
to  Maynard  the  sister  succeeded,  but  not  by  words. 
She  grasped  Maynard's  hand,  when  suddenly,  for  the 
first  time  since  her  escape,  a  full  realizing  sense  of  the 
terrible  end  she  had  so  narrowly  escaped  swept  over 
her.  She  was  looking  her  gratitude,  with  all  the  in- 
tensity of  her  expressive  eyes,  when  her  formal  brother 
said  : 

"  Caroline,  Colonel  Maynard  suffered  disgrace  on 
your  account.  It  is  proper  you  should  know  how 
much  we  owe  him." 

This  information  was  too  much  for  even  the  strong 
nature  of  so  resolute  a  woman.  She  burst  into  a  pas- 
sionate flood  of  tears. 

"  For  the  first  time  since  it  occurred,"  said  May- 
nard gently,  "  I  am  satisfied  with  my  act.  What  is 
the  opinion  of  men  to  me  beside  the  consciousness  of 
having  served  so  admirable  a  woman." 

Fitz  Hugh  threw  open  a  door  near  by,  and  led  the 
way  through  it  into  a  room  where  Corporal  Ratigan, 
his  ruddy  locks  contrasting  with  his  pale  face  and  the 
whiteness  of  his  pillow,  looked  at  them  with  the  same 
astonishment  as  Miss  Fitz  Hugh. 

"  Why,  Colonel,"  he  exclaimed,  "  are  ye  a  pris- 
oner ? " 

"  No.  I  came  by  the  courtesy  of  Colonel  Fitz  Hugh 
to  deliver  this  letter,  which  I  think  is  for  you.  Are 
you  Hugh  Ratigan  ? " 

"  Oi  am." 

•'Sir  Hugh  Ratigan  ?" 


CHICK  AM  A  UGA.  267 

"  No  ;  me  father  was  Sir  Thomas  Ratigan,  of 
County  Cavan,  Ireland." 

"  Perhaps  there  have  been  changes,"  and  Maynard 
handed  him  the  letter. 

The  corporal  took  it  and  looked  first  at  the  black 
seal,  and  then  at  the  handwriting,  which  he  recognized 
at  once  as  his  mother's,  and  read,  "  To  Sir  Hugh  Rat- 
igan, United  States  Army,  Tennessee,  U.  S.  A." 

"  Me  brother  is  dead,"  he  said  solemnly,  and  then 
tore  open  the  envelope. 

The  letter  advised  him,  as  he  supposed,  of  the 
death  of  his  older  brother,  and  as  the  title  and  es- 
tates of  the  family  descended  to  him,  he  was  adjured 
to  go  home  and  attend  to  his  affairs. 

"  Is  it  as  we  supposed  ?"  asked  Maynard. 

"  It  is.  Oi'm  Sir  Hugh  true  enough  ;  me  brother, 
God  rest  'em,  is  gone." 

"  We  sympathize  with  you  at  your  brother's  death, 
and  rejoice  with  you  at  your  own  inheritance,"  said 
Fitz  Hugh. 

All  in  turn  took  the  corporal  by  the  hand. 

"  You  must  go  home  at  once,"  said  Maynard. 

"  How  will  Oi  go  home  when  Oi'm  enlisted  for 
three  years  or  during  the  war  ?  " 

"  We'll  have  to  get  you  out  of  that,"  said  Maynard. 
"Your  duties  are  more  important  in  Ireland,  than  as 
a  corporal  in  our  service.  We  have  more  than  a 
plenty  of  men." 

"  I  wish  we  could  say  the  same,"  observed  Colonel 
Fitz  Hugh. 

The  visiting  party,  expecting  to  return  that  after- 
noon, had  but  little  time  to  converse  upon  anything  ex- 


2  68  CHICK  A  MA  UGA . 

cept,  Sir  Hugh  Ratigan's  future,  and  this  they  con- 
sidered fully.  It  was  arranged  that  as  soon  as  the 
baronet  should  be  able  to  travel  he  was  to  go  through 
the  lines,  apply  for  a  discharge  and  go  to  Ireland.  Col- 
onel Fitz  Hugh  anticipated  no  difficulty  in  securing 
his  permission  to  depart  from  the  Confederacy,  and  as 
he  was  a  British  subject  of  rank  it  was  not  expected 
that  he  would  be  held  to  a  strict  accountability 
for  the  part  he  had  taken  in  the  escape  of  Caroline 
Fitz  Hugh  ;  especially  as  that  act  had  been  largely 
lost  sight  of  in  an  event  of  greater  moment — the  battle 
of  Chickamauga.  These  matters  once  settled  the 
party  moved  toward  the  door,  where  adieus  were 
spoken  ;  then  mounted  and  rode  away. 


XXVIII. 

THE    CHOICE    OF    A    POST. 

CAROLINE  FITZ  HUGH  had  watched  over 
Corporal  Ratigaa  every  day  since  his  wounding, 
and  by  careful  nursing  had  doubtless  saved  his  life. 
It  was  not  for  the  corporal  to  fall  in  love  with  his  nurse, 
for  he  had  loved  her  ever  since  the  day  he  first  met 
her.  When  the  visiting  party  had  left  the  house 
she  went  back  to  her  charge,  and  after  a  few  words  of 
sympathy  at  the  loss  of  his  brother,  putting  out  her 
hand  frankly,  and  with  a  smile  : 

"Arise,  Sir  Hugh,"  she  said.  "You  have  been  on 
your  back  lung  enough.  You  must  get  used  to  sitting 
up  and  pre|)aretogo  to  Ireland  and  to  administer  your 
estate." 

"  Darlin',"  he  said,  looking  up  at  her  wistfully. 

"  It's  time  you  were  breaking  yourself  of  calling  me 
that  ;  you  must  forget  the  Confederate  '  telegraph 
worker,'  go  home  and  marry  one  of  the  daughters  of 
the  neighboring  gentry  and  settle  down  to  become 
'a  fine  old  Irish  gentleman,  one  of  the  rare  old 
stock.'  " 

"  That's  a  fine  picture  ye'r  maken  for  me  ;  and 
what'll  ye  be  doing  meantime?" 

"  Working  for  my  country." 

"  And  haven't  ye  promised  ye  would  do  no  more 
telegraph  working  ?  " 


2  7©  CHICK  A  MA  UGA . 

'  Oh,  that  duty  has  come  to  an  abrii[-)t  termination. 
I  shall  never  attempt  it  ayain.  How  could  1,  after 
the  sacrifice  you  and  Colonel  Maynard  have  made 
for  me  ;  besides,  if  seen  within  the  Federal  lines  I 
should  be  recognized,  and  1  would  then  deserve  my 
fate." 

"  And  what  d'ye  mean  by  worken  for  ye'r  country? 
What  dy'e  call  ye'r  country?  " 

"  The  South  ;  the  Confederate  States  of  America." 

"  It'll  not  be  separated  from  the  rest." 

"  Do  you  really  think  that  Ra —  I  mean  Sir 
Hugh  ? " 

"  1  do." 

"  Do  you  doubt  the  bravery,  the  resolution  of  our 
men  ?  "  she  flushed,  almost  angrily. 

"  Tut,  darlin' ;  that  has  nothing  to  do  with  it.  Ye' 
haven't  more  than  a  third  the  people  of  ye'r  enemy, 
and  of  that  third  a  third  are  black  and  no  use  to  ye' — 
only  an  encumbrance.  Ye'r  seaports  are  blockaded 
and  ye'  have  no  manufactures.  Ye'r  grain-raising 
territory  is  swept  by  enemies  and  it  is  useless  for  ye' 
to  plant  crops  since  the  enemy  is  as  likely  to  gather 
them  as  ye'rselves.  Besides  all  this  ye'r  principles 
are  badly  mixed  ;  ye'  say  ye'r  fighting  for  ye'r  inde- 
pendence, ye'r  liberty  ;  and  the  reason  for  that  is 
that  ye'  may  more  firmly  fasten  the  yoke  on  the 
black." 

"  Rats,"  she  said  earnestly,  "  if  you  were  a  Yankee 
I  would  not  listen  to  you  a  moment.  But  as  a  native 
of  another  land  I  confess  your  words  impress  me. 
Indeed  in  my  heart  of  hearts  I  have  often  thought  as 
you  think  ;  not  about  our  lack  of  resources  and  all 


CHICKAMAUGA.  271 

that,  but  I  doubt  the  success  of  a  cause  in  which  our 
inheritance  of  negro  slavery  forms  so  large  a  part." 

"  Ye'd  better  abandon  it." 

"  Never,  so  long  as  it  is  a  cause  ;  so  long  a-s  my 
brothers  continue  the  struggle  I  will  be  with  them." 

"  Then  so  long  as  the  Union  Army  is  fighten'  ye' 
Oi'll    be  in  its  ranks." 

"  You'll  do  no  such  thing.  You  will  go  home,  where 
your  presence  is  more  needed  ;  to  your  mother,  to 
your  tenants.  Ireland  needs  all  her  land-owners,  such 
as  you,  at  home.  That  is  your  country  ;  you  have  no 
interest  here." 

"  And  the  United  States  is  your  country  ;  you  have 
no  other." 

"  Rats  !  " 

"  Darlin'." 

There  was  a  silence  between  them  for  some 
moments.  Ratigan  laid  his  hand  on  hers  while  she 
was  looking,  with  a  pained  expression,  out  of  the  win- 
dow. In  her  eyes  was  a  far  look.  Her  companion 
had  strengthened  certain  doubts  which  had  at  times 
come  up  to  trouble  her,  as  to  the  ultimate  success,  the 
real  motives  which  underlay  her  cause  ;  and  with  her 
intense,  devoted  nature,  had  led  her  to  feel  that  all 
this  vast  effort  put  forth  by  her  people  might  in  the 
end  avail  nothing,  or  would  only,  if  successful,  per- 
petuate a  wrong.  Her  lover  saw  her  troubled  expres- 
sion. He  did  not  attempt  to  comfort  her  by  recalling 
what  he  had  said  :  he  pushed  on  further. 

"Darlin,"  he  said.  "  Ye're  right  when  ye  say 
Oi'm  needed  in  Oirland,  Go  with  me,  darlin'.  Be 
me    wife.     Let  all   this   intense  effort,  this   sacrifice 


2  72  CHICK  A  MA  VGA . 

ye're  putting  into  a  cause,  which  I  foresee  is  doomed, 
be  given  to  me  tenants.  The  estate  is  a  large  one, 
and  there  are  hundreds  of  people  for  ye  to  befriend. 
There  ye  can  work  to  a  purpose.  There  ye'r  ef- 
forts in  behalf  of  a  really  down-trodden  people  will  be 
for  good." 

"And  leave  my  brothers  in  the  midst  of  this  horrid 
struggle  ?  I  will  stay  here  till  the  last  gun  is  fired, 
till  the  last  blow  of  the  hammer  has  riveted  our 
chains." 

"  Chains  ? " 

*'  Yes,  chains.  Will  they  not  govern  us,  if  they  con- 
quer us,  as  subject  provinces  ?  " 

"  Republicans  can't  hold  subject  provinces,  darlin'. 
They'd  have  to  become  a  monarchy  to  do  that,  and  go 
back  a  hundred  years." 

"  Rats,"  she  exclaimed,  in  admiration  of  the  depth 
of  his  reasoning,  the  plain,  common-sense  way  he  had 
of  putting  the  case.  "  You  must  go  back  and  stand 
for  parliament  ;  you're  a  natural  statesman." 

"  Never." 

"  Why  never? " 

"  The  chains." 

His  hand  was  on  hers;  and  an  arm  was  stealing  around 
her  waist,  as  she  stood  beside  him.  There  was  a  cer- 
tain breaking,  a  yielding  in  her  words,  which  he  had 
never  noticed  there  before,  as  she  said  : 

"  What  chains.  Rats  ?  " 

"The  real  chains  ye  flung  around  me  when  ye 
stood  in  yer  old  rattlen  buggy  and  chaffed  me,  the 
chains  that  were  tightened  when  I  captured  ye,  the 
chains  that  have  held  me  to  ye  ever  since,  that  bind 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  273 

me  to  ye  now,  that  will  keep  me  in  America  so  long  as 
you  are  in  America." 

There  was  a  silence  in  which  her  face  showed 
plainly  she  was  turning  over  what  he  had  said  in  her 
mind.  But  it  did  not  last  long.  She  was  used  to 
thinking  quickly. 

"  Rats,"  she  said,  "granting  all  you  have  said  is 
true  :  granting  that  we  are  embarked  in  an  error  ; 
I  can  never  leave  our  people,  right  or  wrong,  until  the 
struggle  is  ended  one  way  or  the  other." 

"  I  can  understand  ye'r  feelings,  but  it  is  wrong  to 
indulge  them." 

"  Why  so  >.  "     Again  the  troubled  look. 

"By  working  in  the  cause  of  error,  error  is  fos- 
tered. If  ye  think  ye'r  field  lies  here,  choose  the 
right  cause  ;  devote  ye'rself  to  the  ignorant  black  ; 
teach  him  ;  encourage  him  ;  befriend  him  ;  help  him. 
Work  upon  your  people  with  all  the  magnetic  influ- 
ence you  possess  to  make  him  a  free  man  instead  of  a 
chattel." 

"  Become  an  abolitionist?  "  She  seemed  thunder- 
struck at  the  audacity  of  the  proposition. 

"  We're  all  abolitionists  on  the  other  side  of  the 
ocean.     Ye'r  two  hundred  years  behind  the  age." 

There  was  another  pause,  while  Miss  Fitz  Hugh 
thought.  Born  and  bred  in  the  South,  she  had  never 
seen  except  with  Southern  eyes.  Here  was  a  man 
who  was  giving  her  views  never  before  open  to  her. 
She  had  a  mind  capable  of  grasping  them,  and  saw  the 
strength,  the  solid  sense,  beneath  them  when  properly 
presented. 

"  Darlin',"  the  young   baronet   added,   by  way  of 


2  74  CHICK  A  M^  UGA . 

closing  the  argument,  "the  world  moves  on  quickly. 
If  ye'r  people  succeed  in  this  war,  in  less  than  a  quar- 
ter of  a  century  ye'll  either  free  ye'r  slaves  or  be  a 
blot  on  the  face  of  the  earth." 

"  Oh,  Rats,"  she  exclaimed,  "  why  did  I  ever  meet 
you  ?  You've  sapped  the  strength  I  possessed  for  my 
work.  I  can  never  again  do  my  duty  as  I  have  done 
it  thus  far." 

"  Darlin',"  he  said,  drawing  her  nearer  to  him,  "  Oi'll 
replace  what  Oi've  taken.  Oi'll  give  ye  other  duties  ; 
the  duties  that  belong  to  the  mistress  of  a  fine  estate, 
the  duties  of  a  woman  of  high  degree  in  a  country 
where  birth  is  respected  far  more  than  here.  With 
your  vigor,  your  strong  impulses " 

"  Guided  by  your  more  steady  light." 

"  Ye  may  become  one  of  the  most  influential  women 
in  the  three  kingdoms." 

In  her  eyes  came  that  humorous  twinkle  he  had 
once  seen  before,  when  she  stood  in  her  buggy  in  the 
road  up  in  Tennessee  and  tantalized  him  for  his  stupid- 
ity in  having  been  duped  by  her. 

'*  It  would  be  nice  to  be " 

"  To  be  what,  darlin'  ?" 

"  Lady  Rats,"  and  she  hid  her  blushes  in  the  pillow 
on  which  his  head  rested. 


XXIX. 

PUNISHMENT    AND    REWARD, 

THE  sun  setting  over  Lookout  Mountain  shone 
directly  in  the  faces  of  Maynard  and  his  party 
as,  returning  from  Ringold,  they  rode  into  Chatta- 
nooga. It  was  a  glorious  October  evening,  and  the 
heights  towering  above  them,  covered  by  unseen  Con- 
federates, reposed  about  the  town  like  huge  lions 
watching  a  wounded  animal,  confident  that  at  last  it 
must  fall  into  their  power. 

Dismounting  before  his  tent,  Maynard  entered  it, 
and  there  found  a  letter  from  his  wife.  She  begged 
him  to  come  to  her  if  it  were  possible,  and  if  not,  to 
write  to  her.  He  read  and  re-read  the  letter  again  and 
again,  and  then  made  an  attempt  at  a  reply.  After 
writing  half  a  dozen,  all  of  which  he  tore  up,  he  aban- 
doned the  task  in  despair.  His  position  was  too  un- 
certain. The  sentence  of  the  court-martial  hung 
over  him  like  a  sullen  cloud.  What  could  he  say  to 
her  to  comfort  her  ?  He  well  knew  that  the  only 
comforting  she  needed  was  to  know  that  he  was  not 
miserable  ;  and  of  that  he  could  not  assure  her. 

And  so  matters  hung  for  a  week.  Having  no  duties 
to  perform  the  time  passed  all  the  more  slowly.  The 
Confederates  were  sending  occasional  shells  from 
Lookout  Mountain,  and  as  they  were  harmless  the  re- 
ports were  something  of  a  relief  to  Maynard,  breaking 

375 


276  CHICKAMAUGA. 

the  monotony  of  the  silence.  He  spent  much  of  the 
time  thinking  of  what  he  would  do  in  case  the 
sentence  of  the  court  were  approved  and  carried  into 
effect.  He  formed  many  plans,  which  were  all 
abandoned.  At  last  he  settled  down  to  the  resolve 
that  he  would  go  to  the  army  in  the  East,  enlist  under 
an  assumed  name  ;  and  await  the  coming  of  some 
missile  to  end  his  career,  as  he  had  intended  at  Chick- 
amauga. 

One  morning  an  orderly  rode  up  to  him  and  handed 
him  an  order  to  report  in  person  at  General  Thomas' 
headquarters.  Calling  for  his  horse  and  for  his  own 
orderly,  Jakey,  to  follow,  he  mounted,  and  in  a  feverish 
mood  darted  away  to  obey  the  order. 

What  did  the  summons  mean  ?  Something  definite 
in  his  affairs  had  come  about  ;  that  he  felt  reasonably 
sure  of.  Perhaps  the  papers  of  the  court  in  his  case 
had  been  found.  Perhaps  they  had  been  made  out  in 
duplicate.  The  latter  supposition  was  the  most  likely. 
His  offense  could  not  be  ignored  :  indeed,  he  could 
not  afford  to  have  it  ignored.  The  sentence  must  be 
either  set  aside  or  carried  into  effect.  Dismissal 
would  be  far  more  desirable  than  living  in  suspense. 

All  these  matters  rushed  through  his  mind  while  he 
rode  to  respond  to  the  summons.  The  nearer  he 
drew  to  headquarters,  the  less  hopeful  he  became. 
After  all,  was  it  not  absurd  to  expect  anything  except 
that  new  papers  had  been  made,  the  sentence  for- 
warded "approved,"  and  he  was  now  to  be  informed 
that  he  was  no  longer  in  the  army.  General  Thomas 
could  do  much  for  him,  but  there  was  not  a  general 
in  the  army  who  had  a  higher  sense  of  a  soldier's 


CHICKAMAUGA.  277 

obligations  than  he.  How  was  it  possible  that  so 
great  a  leader,  so  rigid  a  disciplinarian,  one  with  such 
high  conceptions,  could  do  aught  in  his  case  but 
approve  the  sentence  !  And  now  he  was  sending  for 
him  to  inform  him  of  his  degradation. 

Following  this  reasoning,  by  the  time  he  arrived  at 
headquarters  his  expectations  were  at  the  lowest  ebb. 
He  dismounted,  and  so  preoccupied  was  he  that  he 
left  his  horse  standing  without  fastening  her;  but 
Jakey  rode  forward  and  seized  the  rein.  Maynard 
gave  his  name  to  an  orderly,  and  in  a  few  minutes 
stood  before  the  man  whose  very  presence  was  quite 
sufficient  to  strike  terror  into  the  heart  of  a  de- 
linquent. 

But  the  first  face  on  which  Maynard's  eyes  rested 
was  not  that  of  the  general.  Another  was  there  to 
greet  him  ;  one  who,  he  knew,  whether  he  were  honored 
or  disgraced,  would  never  love  him  the  less.  It  was  his 
wife.  The  thought  flashed  through  his  brain  :  "  She  is 
here  to  comfort  me  when  the  blow  falls."  He  wanted 
to  fly  to  her  embrace.  The  impulse  was  checked. 
He  saw  that  she  burned  to  fly  to  him  ;  but  she,  too, 
restrained  herself ;  for  there,  between  them,  towered 
the  figure  of  the  general.  INTaynard  gave  him  a  quick 
glance,  but  could  discover  nothing  in  his  countenance 
to  indicate  what  his  fate  would  be.  These  glances, 
these  surmises,  lasted  but  for  a  moment,  for  the  gen- 
eral spoke  : 

"  I  have  sent  for  you  to  inform  you  of  your  status 
in  the  army." 

Maynard  bowed  his  head  and  waited. 

**  The  offense  for  which  you  were  tried,"  the  gen- 


278  CHICKAMAUGA. 

eral  spoke  slowly  and  impressively,  "  was  too  grievous 
to  be  overlooked.  It  would  have  pleased  me  in  the 
case  of  so  brave  a  man  to  set  it  aside  ;  but  such  a 
course  would  have  condoned  that  which,  if  it  should 
go  unpunished,  would  strike  at  the  very  foundation  of 
military  discipline.  In  liberating  a  spy,  entrusted  to 
your  care,  you  violated  a  sacred  trust,  and  assumed 
an  authority  such  as  is  not  accorded  to  any  one,  save 
the  President  of  the  United  States." 

Maynard  did  not  raise  his  eyes  from  the  ground. 
He  knew  what  was  coming,  and  a  shiver  passed  over 
him. 

"  A  new  set  of  papers  were  prepared  and  sent  to 
me.     I  forwarded  them " 

Maynard's  eyes  were  almost  starting  from  their 
sockets. 

"  With  my  approval." 

"  O  General  !  "  gasped  the  stricken  man,  catching 
at  the  tent-pole  for  a  support.  Laura  could  with 
difficulty  keep  her  seat,  so  eager  was  she  to  fly  to  him. 

"  They  have  also  been  approved  by  the  President, 
and  you  have  been  dismissed  from  the  service  of  the 
United  States,  with  forfeiture  of  all  pay  and  emolu- 
ments." 

Maynard  tried  to  speak.  He  wished  to  say  that 
he  could  not  complain  of  the  sentence — that,  con- 
sidering the  offense,  it  was  merciful — but  his  tongue 
would  not  obey  him. 

"  So  much  for  your  punishment,"  the  general  went 
on,  after  a  slight  pause.  "  There  are  other  matters, 
however,  to  be  considered.  These  are  your  youth, 
the  circumstances  under  which  you  were  placed,  the 


CHICK  AM  A  UGA .  279 

voluntary  sacrifice  of  yourself  made  to  save  another, 
and  in  obedience  to  your  own  interpretation  of  your 
duty  in  repaying  a  sacred  obligation.  While  these 
considerations  do  not  destroy  the  act  or  its  pernicious 
effect  as  an  example,  they  show  conclusively  that  it 
did  not  spring  from  base  motives,  but  rather  in  obedi- 
ence to  a  strong  sense  of  honor,  which  a  soldier 
should  hold  in  highest  esteem." 

When  the  general  began  to  speak  of  these  palliat- 
ing circumstances  Maynard  did  not  hear  him.  As  he 
proceeded,  however,  his  attention  was  arrested. 

"  Furthermore,  there  are  your  brilliant  services, 
both  as  a  scout,  and,  more  recently,  in  the  battle 
through  which  we  have  just  passed.  I  have  taken 
pains  to  learn  of  your  services  in  the  ranks  on  the 
nineteenth  of  September,  and  was  myself  a  witness  to 
your  gallantry  on  the  ridge  on  the  twentieth.  I  can- 
not find  it  in  my  heart  to  fail  in  my  acknowledg- 
ments to  any  man,  however  he  may  have  erred,  who 
engaged  in  that  desperate  struggle,  which  was  a  turn- 
ing point  in  our  fortune,  and  may  be  said  to  have 
saved  us  all  from  rout  or  capture.  Besides,  for  more 
than  a  year  I  have  watched  your  career  with  interest. 
I  am  sure  that  you  are  possessed  of  undoubted  mili- 
tary talents — perhaps  of  a  high  order.  I  believe  it 
to  be  true  wisdom  on  the  part  of  the  government  to 
retain  those  talents  for  the  country.  Therefore,  in 
the  interest  of  the  United  States,  and  for  gallant  and 
meritorious  conduct  at  the  battle  of  Chickamauga,  I 
have  suggested  your  name  to  the  President  for  the  ap- 
pointment of  Brigadier-General  of  Volunteers.  A 
batch  of  such  appointments,  including  yours,  was  yes- 


28o  CHICKAMA  UGA. 

terday  sent  to  the  Senate,  and  I  have  a  telegram  an- 
nouncing that  they  were  all  confirmed." 

Suddenly  it  seemed  as  if  there  had  been  a  loosen- 
ing of  invisible  cords  that  had  been  holding  hus- 
band and  wife  apart.  In  the  fraction  of  a  second 
they  were  locked  in  each  other's  arms.  Tears,  the 
usual  mode  of  expression  of  deep  feeling  in  woman, 
did  not  come,  only  to  the  wife.  Yet  in  a  measure  the 
sexes  were  reversed.  Laura  was  more  smiles  than 
tears  ;   Maynard  only  wept. 

Soon  remembering  in  whose  presence  he  stood, 
Maynard  disengaged  himself.  Turning  to  General 
Thomas  : 

"  General,"  he  said,  in  a  broken  voice,  "  I  cannot — 
thanks  are  nothing — time  must  show  how  well  1  ap- 
preciate what  you  have  done.  Is  there  another  man 
in  the  army  who  could  afford  to  take  so  enlarged  a 
view  in  such  a  case?  Is  there  one  with  so  farseeing 
an  eye,  so  keen  a  sense  of  a  soldier's  duty,  tempered 
with  so  kind  a  heart  ?  " 

Maynard  paused  for  a  moment  ;  then,  with  a  sudden 
burst  of  enthusiasm  : 

*'  But  wlio  shall  reward  the  man  who  on  that  terrible 
day  held  together  the  Army  of  the  Cumberland  ? 
Can  the  President  bestow  an  adequate  rank  ?  Would 
the  title  of  full  'General'  avail?  No!  It  is  for 
the  people  to  reward  you  with  a  title,  not  given  by 
an  individual,  but  by  the  common  consent  of  vast 
masses — not  only  for  a  day,  but  so  long  as  there  shall 
be    a    history   of    this  war — the  Rock  of  Chicka- 

MAUGA," 


XXX. 

A    SINGULAR    CEREMONY. 

LAURA  MAYNARD,  after  a  long  period  of  solici- 
tude as  to  her  husband, — detained  at  home  by  a 
temporary  iUness  of  her  child, — had  at  last  found  it 
possible  to  go  and  seek  him.  She  had  arrived  on  the 
morning  of  the  news  of  his  appointment,  and  at  once 
sought  General  Thomas's  headquarters.  There  she 
had  been  informed  of  the  status,  and  a  messenger  was 
at  once  sent  for  her  husband. 

Leaving  the  tent,  where  Maynard  had  first  been 
plunged  in  despair  only  to  be  elevated  to  a  condition 
of  mind  bordering  on  ecstasy,  the  two  sought  a  hotel 
where  Laura  could  be  made  comfortable  till  the  next 
day,  and  there  passed  the  time  in  going  over  the  period 
since  they  had  parted,  and  rejoicing  at  the  outcome 
of  the  singular  complications  which  Fate  had  been 
pleased  to  bring  down  upon  the  husband. 

But  all  meetings  must  have  an  end,  and  at  last  the 
husband  departing,  rode  to  his  tent.  There  he  found 
a  messenger  waiting  for  him. 

"  *  Flag  of  truce '  wants  to  see  you  on  the  picket 
line,  sir." 

Without  dismounting,  the  newly  created  general 
rode  in  the  direction  of  Mission  Ridge  and  met  "  the 
flag  "  at  its  base.  There  stood  a  mounted  party  of 
Confederates,  one  of  them  bearing  a  white  flag,  headed 

8Sl 


282  CHICK  AM  A  UGA . 

by  an  officer — a  son  of  the  South  who  spoke  every 
word  as  though  it  were  of  momentous  importance, 
never  omitting  the  word  "sir." 

"  Are  you  Colonel  Maynard,  sir  ?  " 

"  I  am,  or  at  least  I  was.  I  hardly  know  what  I  am 
just  now.  I  should  not  be  surprised  to  be  informed  that 
I  was  to  command  all  the  armies  of  the  United  States." 

The  officer  looked  puzzled. 

"  I  am  the  bearer,  sir,  of  a  message  from  Corporal 
Sir  Hugh  Ratigan.  He  is  to  be  married  at  seven 
o'clock  this  evening  at  General  Bragg's  headquarters 
on  Mission  Ridge." 

"  The  devil  he  is  !  " 

"That  is  his  intention,  sir ;  he  desires  your  pres- 
ence." 

"  Whom  does  he  marry  ?  " 

"  Miss  Caroline  Fitz  Hugh." 

"  I  have  been  more  surprised  at  other  announce- 
ments, I  confess.  I  don't  wonder  he  invites  me  to 
his  wedding,  since  I  helped  him  to  a  wife." 

"  Shall  I  transmit  your  acceptance  of  the  invitation, 
sir?  " 

"  On  one  condition." 

"  Please  name  it,  sir." 

"I  fear  it  will  be  unacceptable  to  Colonel  Fitz 
Hugh,  who  will  doubtless  be  the  host  or  one  of  the 
hosts.  He  will  not  likely  yield  in  a  matter  of  etiquette 
which  I  must  insist  on." 

"  Colonel  Fitz  Hugh  cannot  be  present,  sir.  He  is 
now  in  your  rear  with  our  cavalry  completing  the  star- 
vation of  your  army  in  Chattanooga,  by  destroying 
your  lines  of  supply." 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  283 

"H'm.  I  was  not  aware  of  any  hunger  in  our 
ranks  ;  indeed,  my  request  is,  knowing  that  your  own 
larder  in  the  Confederacy  is  not  exactly  abundant — 
that  the  horn  of  plenty  is  not  burying  you  like  Her- 
culaneum  under  the  ashes  of  Vesuvius — that  the 
blockade " 

"  The  blockade  is  not  effective,  sir,"  interrupted 
the  officer,  stiffly. 

"Has  somewhat  reduced  your  wine  cellars,  my  con- 
dition is,  I  say,  that  I  may  be  permitted  to  bring  half 
a  dozen  cases  of  champagne   for  the  wedding  feast." 

"  I  assure  you,  sir,  that  it  is  not  necessary.  We  are 
getting  cargoes  of  wine  from  Havre  by  a  regular  line 
of  steamers.  It  is  your  own  mess  tables  at  Chatta- 
nooga that  are  doubtless  bereft  of  beverages,  owing 
to  the  fact  that  our  General  Wheeler  is  circus-riding 
in  Tennessee,  leaving  no  road  or  railroad  open  to 
you." 

"  Do  you  consent  that  I  shall  bring  the  wine  ?  " 

"  I  do,  sir,  but  shall  claim  for  the  host,  a  general 
officer  related  to  the  bride,  the  privilege  of  supplying 
an  equal  number  of  cases." 

"  Agreed.  I  will  meet  you  here  at  six  o'clock  this 
evening,  when  you  can  conduct  me  and  my  party  to 
the  place  where  the  ceremony  is  to  take  place.  You 
may  say,  if  you  please,  that  I  shall  consider  the  invita- 
tion extended  to  my  wife,  whom  I  will  bring  with  me." 

"  We  shall  feel  highly  honored,  sir,  at  Mrs.  Maynard's 
presence.  Am  I  to  infer,  sir,  that  your  wife  has  been 
able  to  reach  you  over  the  burnt  bridges  and  trestle- 
work  in  your  rear  ?  " 

''  She  has  found  no  difificulty  whatever  in  joining  me," 


284  CHICK  A  MA  UGA . 

Maynard  failed  to  add  that  Laura  had  only  come 
a  few  miles  to  meet  him. 

"  Good  day,  sir,"  said  the  officer,  raising  his  hat. 
"  I  shall  expect  you  at  six." 

"  Good  day  ;   I  will  be  on  time." 

And  each  rode  away  in  the  direction  of  their  respec- 
tive camps. 

Maynard's  offer  of  the  wine  had  come  about  in  this 
wise  :  Jakey,  during  the  previous  week,  had  been  in- 
vestigating such  empty  houses  as  he  could  find  in 
Chattanooga  and  had  loaded  himself  down  with  knick- 
knacks,  such  as  china  ornaments,  pictures,  crockery, 
cutlery,  including  even  daguerreotypes.  On  one  oc- 
casion he  thought  he  had  discovered  a  box  of  muskets. 
This  he  reported  to  Colonel  Maynard,  whom  he  per- 
suaded to  go  with  him  to  a  cellar,  near  by,  and  make 
a  search  for  concealed  arms.  The  muskets  were 
found,  besides  half  a  dozen  cases  of  champagne, 
which  had  doubtless  been  there  since  the  beginning  of 
the  war. 

Upon  leaving  the  picket  line,  Maynard  rode  to  ibe 
house  where  he  had  seen  the  wine,  and  secured  it  for 
the  evening,  placing  a  guard  over  it.  Then  he  went 
to  the  hotel  and  bade  Laura  get  ready  to  attend  a 
wedding. 

There  was  consternation  in  the  Confederate  camp 
when  the  officer  returned  with  the  information  that 
the  Yankee  had  tried  to  bluff  him  by  claiming  the 
privilege  of  bringing  champagne  with  him,  and  that  he 
had  claimed  the  right  for  the  hosts  to  furnish  an 
equal  amount.  The  telegraph  v;as  set  in  motion  at 
once,  directing  search  to  be  made  in  all  the  neighbor- 


CHICK  AM  A  UGA.  285 

ing  towns  for  the  required  beverage.  Dalton,  Cleve- 
land, and  other  points  were  ransacked  without  suc- 
cess. About  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  as  de- 
spair was  settling  on  the  Confederates,  a  telegram 
was  received  that  some  champagne  had  been  found  in 
Atlanta.  The  authorities  there  were  directed  to  send 
it  by  special  locomotive,  marking  it  "  Ainmunilion. 
Forward  with  dispaic/i." 

At  seven  o'clock  Maynard,  accompanied  by  Laura, 
and  Jakey  who  was  always  with  him,  besides  a  wagon 
containing  the  cases  of  wine,  were  at  the  appointed 
place  on  the  picket  line,  where  they  were  met  by  the 
Confederate  "  flag."  Transferring  the  wine  to  the 
backs  of  pack-mules,  all  started  up  the  side  of  Mis- 
sion Ridge  to  General  Bragg's  headquarters. 

As  they  approached  the  crest  a  body  of  Confederate 
officers,  a  gay  cavalcade  in  gray  and  gold  lace,  rode 
out  to  meet  them.  They  were  received  by  the  rela- 
tive of  the  bride — an  uncle — referred  to  by  the  officer 
who  brought  the  invitation.  He  was  an  elderly  man, 
of  a  dignified  and  serious  mien.  The  party  were  con- 
ducted to  a  large  marquee  set  up  for  the  wedding 
feast.  There  they  alighted  and  the  wine  was  unloaded 
and  carried  inside. 

A  few  minutes  before  seven  o'clock  the  guests  were 
conducted  to  a  knoll,  on  the  summit  of  which  had 
been  erected  a  canopy  of  flowers,  and  where  stood  a 
group  of  Confederates  of  high  rank.  On  the  eastern 
horizon  stood  the  full  moon  ;  below  to  the  east  was 
the  battlefield  of  Chickamauga  ;  to  the  west,  the 
Army  of  the  Cumberland,  besieged  in  Chattanooga, 
on  half  rations.  As  the  guests  approached,  the  groom 


2  86  CHIC  KAMA  UGA .  . 

Still  in  his  uniform  of  a  corporal,  attended  by  his  best 
man — a  Confederate  non-commissioned  officer  of  good 
family,  detailed  for  the  occasion,  was  seen  moving 
from  the  north  toward  the  knoll.  At  the  same  mo- 
ment the  bride — attired  in  a  dress  made  of  a  coarse 
white  stuff,  manufactured  in  the  Confederacy,  and  at- 
tended by  several  bridesmaids,  who  had  come  from 
a  distance  to  officiate,  approached  from  the  south. 
The  two  met  on  the  knoll  under  the  canopy.  An 
officer  of  high  rank,  who  was  also  a  bishop  in  the 
Church,  stepped  forward,  and  Corporal  Sir  Hugh  Rati- 
gan  and  Caroline  Fitz  Hugh  were  made  one.  The 
only  lamp  to  light  the  nuptials  was  the  round  moon  in 
the  east.  The  only  canopy,  save  that  composed  of 
flowers,  was  the  broad  heavens  above,  in  which  the 
stars  had  only  just  appeared  for  the  night.  The  only 
wedding  bells  were  occasional  booms  from  guns  on 
Lookout  Mountain. 

The  ceremony  over,  the  bride  and  groom  repaired 
to  the  marquee,  lighted  with  candles,  where  they  took 
position  to  receive  the  congratulations  of  the  company. 
All  gave  way  to  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Maynard,  who  of- 
fered theirs  first. 

"  We  must  give  you  up,  I  suppose,"  said  Laura  to 
the  bride,  "  just  as  we  would  like  to  know  you  better. 
You  go  abroad,  I  suppose." 

"  No,  I  remain  here." 

"  But  Sir  Hugh  will  go?" 

"Yes,  as  soon  as  he  can  get  his  discharge.  He  goes 
to  Virginia,  from  here,  where  he  will  pass  through  the 
lines  to  Washington,  and  will  put  his  case  in  the  hands 
of  the  British  Minister,     He  anticipates  no  trouble  in 


CHICKAMAUGA.  287 

getting  a  discharge  from  the  Federal  Army,  and  hopes 
to  sail  within  a  month  for  Ireland." 

"  And  you  ? "  asked  Laura,  in  some  surprise  that  the 
bride  could  bear  to  part  so  soon  with   her  husband. 

"  I  ?  I  remain  with  my  people  till  the  last  gun  has 
been  fired.  We  have  argued  that  question,  and  such 
is  my  decision." 

"  Moi  decisions,"  observed  the  groom,  "  are  a  thing 
of  the  past." 

Leaving  the  newly  married  pair.  Colonel  Maynard 
approached  the  master  of  ceremonies,  the  bride's  uncle. 

"  General,"  he  said,  "  I  esteem  it  a  privilege  that 
you  have  waived  your  right  to  furnish  all  the  viands 
for  the  wedding  feast,  and  have  permitted  me  to  con- 
tribute. "  There,"  pointing  to  the  boxes  of  wine  he 
had  brought,  "are  six  cases  of  champagne,  which  I 
beg  you  to  accept  as  a  contribution  from  the  army  in 
Chattanooga." 

At  a  signal  from  the  officer  addressed,  a  negro 
removed  a  blanket  covering  a  dozen  boxes  in  a  corner 
of  the  tent,  which  had  come  a  hundred  miles  and  had 
not  been  in  position  ten  minutes. 

"  I  see  your  six  cases.  General,  and  go  you  six  cases 
better." 

"  Having  no  further  resources  at  hand,"  said  May- 
nard, bowing,  "  I  retire  from  the  game." 

"  Hannibal,"  said  the  Confederate,  "  you  may 
advance  the  force  in  the  first  box  to  a  position  in  line 
on  the  table." 

"  Yes,  sah,"  said  the  person  addressed.  And  seiz- 
ing a  sabre  standing  in  the  corner,  he  unsheathed  it 
with  a  flourish  and  pried  open  a  box  of  the  wine,     In 


288  CHICK  A  MA  UGA . 

a  moment  a  dozen  bottles  were  standing  on  the  table, 
like  a  platoon  of  soldiers. 

"Now,  Hannibal, you  may  fire  the  opening  shot." 

Hannibal  broke  the  wires  ;  and  a  "  pop,"  a  far  more 
welcome  sound  than  those  that  had  been  so  recently 
and  frequently  heard  by  all  present,  announced  that 
the  feast  was  not  only  set  but  begun. 

"  I  must  apologize  for  our  glassware,"  said  the 
master  of  ceremonies,  "  our  champagne  glasses  were 
all  shattered  by  the  concussions  at  Chickamauga." 

And  well  he  might.  The  array  consisted  of  tin 
cups,  wooden  cups,  glass  cups,  and  tumblers,  all  either 
cracked,  broken,  or  dinted.  And  as  a  circle  was 
formed  to  pledge  the  bride  and  groom,  one  Confeder- 
ate screened  himself  behind  his  comrades  to  avoid 
being  seen  drinking  from  a  gourd. 

When  the  contents  of  eighteen  cases — a  regiment 
of  "  dead  soldiers  " — lay  on  the  table,  the  guests  pre-" 
pared  to  depart.  The  last  words  had  been  spoken  by 
General  and  Mrs.  Maynard,  and  by  Sir  Hugh  and 
Lady  Ratigan.  Jakey,  who  had  thus  far  wandered 
about  unobserved,  though  not  unobserving,  stepped 
up  to  the  bride  and  groom.  Though  he  had  not 
tasted  the  wine,  his  eyes  glistened  with  intoxication  at 
the  union  of  his  two  friends,  whose  attachment  he  had 
noticed  from  the  first. 

"  Miss  Baggs,  air  you'uns  'n  Sir  Rats  goen  ter 
ride  roun'  Tennessee  some  more  in  the  Chicken 
Coop  ?  " 

There  was  a  burst  of  laughter  from  the  party, 
and  Lady  Ratigan,  with  a  blush,  informed  Jakey  that 
the  Chicken  Coop  was  broken  in  pieces, 


CHICK  A  MA  UGA .  2  «  9 

"I  didn't  know  nuthin'  'bout  that.  Reckon  Sir 
Rats  'd  find  't  handy  in  Ireland.  'T's  kind  o'  funny  you 
'uns  starten  out  way  up  by  the  mountings,  'n  felchen 
up  down  hyar,  nigh  outer  th'  Georgy  line."  And 
Jakey  surprised  the  company  by  giving  tlie  only  "ha, 
ha,"  that  had  to  this  moment  ever  been  heard  to  issue 
from  his  serious  lips. 

As  the  guests  descended  the  side  of  the  mountain, 
a  cheer  was  heard  in  the  direction  of  Chattanooga. 
They  stopped  and  listened.  A  man  rode  out  from 
the  Union  picket  line  to  meet  them. 

"  What's  that  cheering  ?  "  asked  General   Maynard. 

"  Ole  Pap's  in  command  of  the  Army  of  the  Cum- 
berland." 


THE   END. 


A    MODERN   KNIGHT. 


Ormsby  Macknight  Mitchel, 

ASTRONOMER   AND   GENERAL. 

A  Biographical  Narrative  by  his  Son,  F.  A.  Mitchel, 
With  Steel  Portrait.     Crown  Zvo,gilt  top,  $2.00. 


From  the  Cincinnati  Commercial  Gazette. 

General  Ormsby  M.  Mitchel  left  a  record  in  science  and  in  the 
art  of  war  to  which  students  of  both  will  long  turn  for  enlighten- 
ment and  for  a  high  example.  He  was  the  first  American 
astronomer  of  his  day,  and  among  the  generals  of  the  civil  war  he 
had  no  equal  for  far-reaching,  aggressive  combinations  and 
rapidity  of  execution. 


From  the  Boston  Advertiser. 

In  reading  the  biography  of  this  man,  our  faith  in  human  nature 
is  increased.  He  was  a  great  man  in  the  truest  and  best  sense  of 
the  word  ;  and  his  life  is  one  that  can  be  held  up  to  the  youth  of 
the  nation  as  an  example  for  generations  to  come. 


*^*  For  sale  by  all  Booksellers.     Sent  by  mail,  postpaid,  on 
receipt  of  price,  by  the  Publishers, 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  &  CO.,  Boston, 

II  East  Seventeenth  Street,  New  York, 


***  For  sat, 

HOUGHTO 

II  East  Se\ 


RARE  BOOK 
COLLECTION 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

AT 

CHAPEL  HILL 


Wilmer 
794 


